


This Is Where the Light Does Not Shine

by inknkeys



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:00:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3482297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inknkeys/pseuds/inknkeys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Thor met Loki, he was one and Loki was a couple months old.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Odin’s head was spinning.

The world felt laughably calm, and chaotic at the same time.  The honks of the passing cars grated harshly on his ears.  

The world felt so different, and it was.  It was different, now.  Everything was no longer the same.

“You can’t play anymore,” they had told him.  “You’re out.  Forever.  Maybe you should consider coaching, or trying out a different major.  But that head wound is pretty severe.”

So, naturally, Odin had gone and gotten wasted after he “healed.”

But he would never be healed, would he?  He’s out.  Forever.  Suddenly he feels unnatural hatred for the red light in front of him, stopping him.  Why was the world out to stop him?  He was in his early thirties, still young, with an amazing career, with a wife and a one year old child.  Why in the world did everything have to happen to him?

Odin’s foot pressed down on the accelerator, as if if he drove fast enough he could fly right up to the red light and crash into it, silencing its annoying scream.  

What happened next was more of a whirlwind, a rush of adrenaline pushing the alcohol out of his brain and blood out of his veins.  His eyesight was a blur, and there was something... wet trickling down his face.

He later found out that it had taken surgery to get Frigga’s favorite bobbing sunflower that ran on solar energy out of his eye and that he was lucky it hadn’t gone deeper and skewered his brain.

 

The child was silent.  Odin found that strange; shouldn’t it be crying?  Shouldn’t it be screaming, protesting, trying to escape, just as Thor had whenever he was in his crib.  But no; the little child, son of illegal immigrants who should have been unrefined, uneducated, lay on the mattress and stared up at Odin with eyes that seemed to far surpass the intelligence that a normal months old baby could have possessed.

Odin felt his heart clenching and fell to his knees beside the bed.  How could he have deprived this child of his parents in a drunken stupor?  He was about to curse his bad luck, then stopped and cursed himself instead.

The words he spoke next were not planned at all.

“I will adopt him.”

 

 


	2. A Chronicle of Two Childhoods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They were in two different worlds."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the people who left comments and kudos!!  
> TG, Arcadii, xsillyrabbitzx, kitsunekiri, Blackbird_y, ImmiD, alienswamp, Sigynthefaithful, missdorothysnarker, SawyerSparrow, elv7, brujeria, PatchworkReader, cyndrarae, Generation_Loki, sefarina, Madame_Butterfly, SuicideSquadGirl13, takemetothechurchofthorki, thekelseyrenae, hurricanewinds, TheEmpireState and 16 guests.

The first time Thor met Loki, he was one and Loki was a couple months old.

Neither of them understood the gravity in the moods of the adults around them.  They only knew that they had found another of their kind.  Someone they could understand.

Thor was the first to move.  He crawled forward and slapped Loki on the arm, like he did with the other daycare kids sometimes.  He grinned, waiting for Loki to start bawling.  

But Loki didn’t.  Instead, the tiny baby, small even for his age, simply stared at Thor, then down at the red mark crawling across his pale alabaster skin.  Then he looked back up at Thor, a look in his huge eyes as if he was admonishing the older baby.  

Thor immediately felt guilty, something he had never felt before.

And at that moment, his one year old self decided that it was a terrible feeling, and that Thor would never feel it again.  He would do whatever he could to not feel guilty.

So he smiled sweetly and cuddled up to Loki, nearly twice his size, and rubbed the bruise on Loki’s arm.  

And over the top of the crib, two astonished parents watched their usually rambunctious son fall asleep just like that.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Thor always took good care of Loki.

He made sure Loki always ate and always kept at least one and a half good eyes on the younger, so much that Loki began to get tired of the constant attention.  Loki would put his sandwich down after two bites, intent on getting a drink of water, and Thor would lean over and say, “Brother, is that all you are eating?  You are so small, you must eat more!”  And so Loki would be unable to quench his thirst until after the meal was over.

Loki would climb trees easily, with feline grace, and Thor was stumble after him, shaking the branches and causing an avalanche of leaves.  And as they got older, approaching the age that Thor had to go to school, Thor would often give up and kick a football around at the base of whatever tree Loki had chosen for that day as Loki settled himself in the top branches and read Tolkien’s works.

Thor’s first day of school came as a shock and a terrible change for the two.

Thor couldn’t imagine what kinds of trouble Loki would get in if he wasn’t there to keep his eyes on him.  He imagined Loki falling out of his tree, eating only one bite at lunch, or even drowning in a cup of water.  

Loki couldn’t imagine what kinds of trouble Thor would get in if he wasn’t there to calm the older down.  He imagined Thor picking fights with the big boys, the infamous fifth graders, and getting beaten up.  And he imagined Thor going back the next day to fight again, just because Thor would never accept a defeat.

Loki accompanied Thor to the bus.  Thor was the last to get on; he refused to let go of Loki’s hand.  When the bus driver finally called out, “Honey, are you getting on?”  Thor let go.

He looked Loki in the eyes.  “Eat your sandwich, okay?”  He said seriously as a seven year old could.

Loki nodded.  “Don’t punch anyone,” he said in return.  Thor crossed his heart solemnly.

However, Thor still didn’t want to leave his, in his eyes, frail little brother.  He hugged Loki tightly.

“Sweetie?”  The bus driver called out.  

“They’re waiting, Thor, you must go!”  Loki exclaimed, pulling away.

Then Thor did something that he would never know the meaning of until much later.

He leaned forward, and, closing his eyes as he had seen his papa do, pressed his plump lips on Loki’s tiny ones.  Time seemed to freeze for a moment, and when Thor dared to open his eyes, he saw Loki’s green ones staring back at him, surprised.

Loki was the first to step away.  “What was that?”  He said, shocked.  He was far more mature than Thor and knew that a kiss was only between two people who really, really loved each other.  After all, that’s what Aragorn and Arwen did, right?

But Thor just grinned, unaware that he was doing anything wrong.  “Papa does that to mama when he goes away for a long time,” he explained importantly, all the pomp and know-it-all of an older sibling shining through.  “And since I’m going away for a long time, it was only right that I did it to you, too.”

Loki bit his lip.  He still wasn’t so sure if that was right, but when Thor said it like that, it sounded plausible.  “I suppose,” he said reluctantly.

“Thor Odinson!”  The bus driver screeched, and Thor shot into the bus faster than a rocket.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Loki was eight years old and a very much grown-up second grader, he decided to bake a cake for Thor.

They had just learned about baking in school, so he wanted to try out his skill at home.  After all, school was supposed to help them in life, right?

Thor wasn’t home, yet.  He was at a weekly football camp with his third grader friends.  It was the perfect opportunity for Loki.

He had already caught Thor before he went off, telling Thor to be sure to come home right after camp.  Thor had promised, albeit a bit distracted, but it was good enough for Loki.  Thor would never break a promise.

His parents were out, too; Odin was coaching at football practice and Frigga was helping out at the library.  Loki was similar to his mother in that aspect; they both loved books.

Loki triumphantly pulled the recipe for white vanilla cake out of the folder in his Star Wars backpack.  For a second, he worried.  What if Thor liked chocolate better than vanilla?  What if he liked that... what was it called... red velly or something?

Thor would be happy with anything Loki made, Loki decided.

Loki was actually pretty tall for his eight years.  Tall, but skinny.  He reached the countertop with minimal difficulty and set about mixing the ingredients.

Loki made the cake just the way he had been taught in class.  He hummed as he cooked, just like he had seen his mother do.  He imagined Thor walking through the kitchen door, smelling the baking cake, and telling Loki that it looked delicious, just like Odin did when Frigga cooked.

When Loki looked at the spindly arms of the mixer and ominous looking red button at the top, he grew a big scared.  So he opted to use the spatula to mix the batter as well as he could.  There were a couple lumps left and some splashed onto the floor, but it looked nearly as smooth as the batter they had made in class.  He poured it into the pan and turned on the oven, setting the pan inside.

Loki didn’t know how to use the alarm, so he looked at the clock.  4:00.  He would check on it in 4:30.  He walked into his room and settled on his bed, reading the Silmarillion.  For the time being, he wished he could go back and live in Middle-Earth.

He was jostled out of his book when the smell of something burning reached his nose.  He looked over at the clock.  5:00.  Oh no!  He flew downstairs, the book catapulted from his grasp and landing on the floor.  Loki paid it no mind, already opening the oven.  

The cake didn’t look too bad, so Loki reached forward to take it out.  The next second, he was drawing back, hissing sharply.  He stared down at the bright red tips of his fingers, stark against his pale skin.  He ran to the sink and let the cold stream of water fall on his fingers, cooling them.

It didn’t hurt that much, Loki told himself, trying to suppress the tears welling in his eyes.  He cursed at himself for being weak and blinked them away angrily.  He shouldn’t cry.  Thor had told him so.  Only babies cried, and Loki wasn’t a baby anymore.  He resolutely slipped on the oven mitts and pulled the cake out of the oven, being careful to turn it off.

When it cooled, Loki pulled the cake out.  He was alarmed when chunks of it stuck to the pan, remembering that he had forgotten to grease it.  Actually, it solved the problem of the burnt pieces.  Now Loki just had to take some of the darker bits off the top.  It was supposed to be white vanilla cake, after all.

When he was all finished, he sat at the table and waited for Thor, swinging his feet excitedly.  

He was rewarded by the front door opening and Thor’s excited voice.  “-and then I tackled him right to the ground... what is that smell?”

The cake I made for you!  Loki thought.

Thor and Frigga turned the bend into the kitchen and froze.

Loki jumped up.  “Mother!  Thor!  Look what I made for you!”  He unconsciously hid his fingers inside his sleeves, wanting them to believe he had succeeded completely.  He waited anxiously for approval.

But he didn’t get any.  “What did you do, Loki!?”  Thor cried, dropping his cleats and equipment at the doorway.  “The whole house smells like something burnt.  There’s sugar on the countertop and milk spilled.  Did you make a mess on purpose!?  Stop being such a baby.”

Loki stared up at him uncomprehendingly, too shocked to even cry.  Thor’s just tired, he thought.  He would never yell at Loki like that.

Loki was right, for Thor sat down heavily at the table.  “Never mind,” Thor said.  “I suppose I’m tired from practice.”  Loki perked up.  “But I can’t eat this, Loki.  I just can’t.  Look at it.  It’s so ugly.”

Frigga helped Loki clean up, but those words would stay with him forever.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Loki never made any friends in school.

After all, people tend to either ostracize or worship those that seemed different.  On one end of the spectrum was Thor.  Already showing signs of being extremely handsome, tall, always smiling.  On the other was Loki, with his longish black hair and strange green eyes, silent and emotionless.

But Loki could always count on Thor.  Or so he thought.  

Loki was 10 when he realized that he would never catch up to Thor.

It was obvious whom his parents liked more.  Even Loki understood.  Thor was the very spitting image if them; light hair, blue eyes, wide smile and strong build.  Loki looked like he was picked up from the wrong crib.  Sometimes he wondered that; what if they weren’t actually related at all?  What if the nurses had made a mistake when he was born, had wheeled the wrong crib into the designated space?  What if Thor’s real brother was still out there somewhere?

But the one time he had brought it up, Thor had clapped him on the back and told him it was nonsense.  

It wasn’t Thor’s fault.  Loki knew Thor so well; Thor was so cheerful, so happy, but so childish.  Thor didn’t understand that he was hurting others.  His world revolved around himself and Thor had never thought anything otherwise, so it was wrong of Loki to blame Thor.  No, the only one to blame was himself.

Loki had spent all of elementary school chasing Thor, trying to hang out with him, do homework together.  And now Thor was in middle school.  Just like starting at the bottom of another ladder, Loki was left far behind.

And it was painfully obvious when Thor started forgetting.

He didn’t show up when Loki wanted to go to the park together.  He wasn’t there when Loki rode his bike five miles to the pumpkin patch to pick pumpkins.  And he wasn’t at home when Loki walked to Thor’s room for their schedule tutoring session (in video games).

“He’s a middle schooler.  They’re in a different world; they’re so old,” Loki’s classmate had explained.  “They wouldn’t mingle with elementary schoolers.”

So that was how it was.

They were in two different worlds.

But Loki couldn’t help but remember a time when they were in the same world.

 

 

* * *

 

 

In seventh grade, Loki entered the school chess team.

It was newly established and there weren’t many members.  The coach was a man who had last played chess about twenty years ago.  

Loki’s history teacher had recommended Loki to play it.

He’d said Loki had a knack for battles.  And Loki was interested; he would research them in depth and analyze the tactics, strategies, and meaning behind every attack.

There were four members of the team; Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner, and Clint Barton.  Natasha was a sixth grader, a rhythmic gymnast who always played doing the oversplits.  She had no patience for thinking, but her mind moved lightning fast and she could tell if you were about to use a trick by watching your face.  Bruce was a nice eighth grader.  He had been rejected when he wanted to make a science based club so he joined the next best thing.  Clint, the eighth grader... well, he was just sad there wasn’t archery in gym class.

The four of them had a strange relationship.  Clint served his purpose as the overseer and mother of the group.  Natasha often did whatever she wanted besides practice; climbing the bookshelves, terrorizing the librarians.  Clint played with Loki more often than others, just because he “felt bad” for Loki.  Loki often found himself playing chess alone or with a distracted Bruce.

When they went to the local high school for the district round, Loki was nervous.  He’d figured most things out on his own and even played against himself; he had no idea what to do.  But, to his surprise, he quickly won all his games.  Even Clint passed, and Clint didn’t know what he was doing half the time.

The State Regionals were a piece of cake as well, and for the first time chess team was mentioned in the morning announcements.  

At States, Clint lost his cool at a kid trying to cheat.  The kid was further aggrieved when Natasha planted a whoopie cushion on his seat and rigged his board so his pieces would slide back unnoticeably.  Both were disqualified.

Bruce was disqualified at Regionals, mind worked up over a recent development in chemistry.  He was too distracted to concentrate.  

Loki traveled to the capital alone to play in the National tournament.

He was the youngest.  The Nationals didn’t discriminate against age levels; the oldest was a high school senior with a menacing bitch face.  So Loki just sat in the giant cafeteria in the high school, feeling small and insignificant.

There were sixteen people at Nationals.  The first two rounds were fairly simple.  Round three took some time and some glaring back and forth, but Loki won.  When he sat down for the final, he was facing the bitch faced senior.

“Go back home, snotty baby,” the teenage hissed at Loki when the judge wasn’t looking.

But Loki gritted his teeth and concentrated.  He had long learned to put those words behind him; although they weren’t necessarily behind him.  He just allocated them to a different place, a space in his heart where all the problems and all the sadness was.  

Baby?  He wasn’t a baby.  He was twelve years old.

When he brought home the first place trophy, the house was dark and his family was all asleep.

He gets a much better welcome at school, of course.  Clint gives him a nod, and Natasha applauds him for “showing those upstarts in high school who’s the best”.  Bruce congratulates him and even shows Loki a video of a cool experiment he had conducted.

Loki doesn’t tell his family much.  They don’t watch TV or read much news, so they don’t ask either.  

Near the end of the year, the middle school dance comes.  Only eight graders are allowed to go, unless they invite a seventh grader.  Loki resigns himself to staying home.

Thor brings the party to him, though.  Frigga and Odin are out on a date, and Loki is doing some light reading (meaning the Encyclopedia) in the basement when the door is opened and loud voices fill the house.  

“Thor!  Where should we go?”  A decidedly female voice asks.

“The basement, maybe.  No one goes down there anymore,” Thor answers.  Loki panics.  He doesn’t want to be found, dreads the awkward encounter if he was found.  At the last moment, he dives into the old musty wardrobe probably filled with spiders that would kill Loki with one bite.

That possibility might not be too bad, actually.

The lights flick on and a horde of students trample into their basement.  Loki winces at the strangers; the girls in tight dresses that shouldn’t have been worn by fourteen year olds, the guys with ties loose and buttons undone.  Loki freezes when Thor opens the pantry with the alcohol.  He wants to leap out and scream, No!  You can’t!  But he is frozen, and he curses himself once again for being a wimp.

Suddenly, an elbow darts out and Loki watches his prized possession, his beautiful trophy from the National championships, slip off the table and crash resoundingly on the ground.  Thor freezes and looks down, confused.

“I’m so sorry, Thor!”  The culprit exclaims.  It’s a scantily clad girl with curly blonde hair.

Thor regards the shattered trophy for a bit, face morphing into shock, then confusion, then nothing.

“It’s fine, it’s just a measly chess trophy.  Chess is stupid, anyway.”

When eighth grade comes, Loki doesn’t join the chess team.  And he doesn’t have anything to prove that he ever did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit's gonna go down next chapter...


	3. Everyone Has That Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Loki thinks back to the mask he created to hide his own dark clouds, the smile used for his mom and family."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the new people who left comments and kudos!
> 
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Loki went home one day in eighth grade and there was a girl sitting at the kitchen table.

Loki had never seen her before, but he didn’t question it.  Perhaps his parents had forgotten to mention that one of their relatives was visiting.  This girl did look a bit familiar, although it might have just been the fact that she looked so generic.  Straightened blonde highlighted hair, brown eyes, tan skin, slim figure.

Instead, he dropped his backpack by the door and poured himself a glass of water.  He paid the girl no attention; She was not important in his world and thus she wasn’t a part of it.  He had long ago stopped caring about the others around him after they stopped caring about him.

Then Thor rumbles in in that way of his and claps Loki on the shoulder.  Loki doesn’t resist, allowing Thor to turn him around.

“Loki, meet Stephanie!  She is my girlfriend.  Stephanie, this is my brother, Loki.”  Loki nods at the girl, a strange feeling welling in his chest at the word ‘girlfriend’.  He tells himself it’s none of his business.

“Hey, Loki,” Stephanie smiles, and she’s so shy and pretty.  But Loki doesn’t care, so he turns around and ducks under Thor’s arm.

“I’ll be doing homework,” he mutters over his shoulder.

All throughout geometry he’s thinking about Thor and Stephanie, and more than once he tells himself off for being stupid.  They’re in love, they’re dating, and Loki shouldn’t be feeling so strange.  And then he sees Stephanie’s beautiful curvy legs in his mind, and hikes up his sweatpants to look at his own.  Skinny as hell and just as attractive.

By dinner, Stephanie is gone, but Loki feels her presence big in the room.  He eats twice as fast and twice as much as usual, finishing his whole plate and piling on more instead of just taking a few bites like he usually does.  Too skinny, he tells himself.  He should be more strong and muscled, maybe even curvy.

He goes upstairs after brushing away his parents’ inquiries, and lays down on the bed.  His stomach feels terrible, and Loki feels like a bowling ball.  But maybe it would help him become more attractive.

Loki continues his “diet.”  It makes him feel bloated and gross.  He’s not used to eating so much.  Suddenly, he’s hungry all the time, always cramming food in his mouth.  When remarked upon by his father, his mother says, “He’s a growing boy.  Leave him be.”

And Loki is growing, alright.  

He doesn’t know when he starts to notice it.  He’s never really stood out in anything, being average in looks and sports.  Smartness isn’t really something that appeals to kids his age; rather, it estranges those who have it.

“I think you might be one of the largest in your school!”

It’s said in a proud tone because Frigga is one of those people who believe that if one eats more when young, they’ll grow up tall.  But to Loki it sounds ashamed, disappointed.

He suddenly never wants to eat anymore.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stephanie and Thor’s breakup is more dramatic and twisted than it should be.

Loki comes home one day and she’s already sitting at the table.  His snack is laid out for him; two peanut butter sandwiches and a glass of orange juice with a plate of cookies.  A week ago, he would have wolfed the whole thing down.  But now he just looks at it.

He ignores her as usual but today she latches on to his arm.  Loki stiffens, looking down.  In his eyes, his flesh is engorged, pooling around her pretty thin fingers.  But he doesn’t move.  He doesn’t know how to move.

“Loki,” Stephanie says.  Her voice sounds strange.  When Loki looks up, there are tears in her eyes.  He freezes even more.  “Thor... he doesn’t love me anymore...”

And then there’s a crying girl clinging to his t shirt.  Loki becomes a stone statue, still and unmoving.  He’s panicking inside; crying girl alert!  Crying girl alert!  He tries to remember what his mother does when he cries.  Or used to.  He reaches up, joints cracking as if frostbitten, and strokes a hand through her long blonde hair.

He’s not prepared for the hand on the back of his neck yanking his face down, and even more so for the press of flesh on his lips.  And he’s completely unprepared for the slap that forces his gaze outside, ears ringing.

“How could you?”  Comes the voice, and Loki barely registers it as Thor’s.

“He forced me!”  Stephanie cries.  Some part of Loki wants to burst out laughing maniacally.  A sarcastic smile forms on his lips.  “I swear, Thor!  You know I only love you!”  Lies.

Thor’s push, with all the force of a freshman football player on the varsity team, doubles Loki over the sink and knocks his head against the windowsill on the other side.  Combined with his sparse diet recently, the impact frees his head from the ground and sets it spinning.

“Loki.”  Thor says, and that one word is worse than anything vulgar he could have spewed.

That one word holds all the things Thor didn’t have to say.

(That he’s fat, ugly, unworthy for Stephanie or Thor to even glance at.)

 

 

* * *

 

 

Robotics is something Loki actually enjoyed.  

It was interesting to put the pieces together and watch it work, in the end.  Loki found it engaging and puzzling to find these ways, these shortcuts to the final step.  Sometimes, the teacher would call Loki’s work magic.

Loki could make magic in the robotics lab.

Apparently getting as far as the national finals was also magical.  Loki was the first of their school to even make it to districts.  After all, most of the population were football jocks like Thor.

Like Thor.

Loki’s mind wanders even as he sits in the waiting room.  It’s blank and white, so different from his mind, yet so similar.  Maybe all his turmoiled thoughts come to one conclusion.

It’s all lies.  Everything.

He doesn’t notice when a boy sits down next to him until the boy has been chattering away for about ten minutes.

“...and I told him, I don’t need your fucking help!  You’re so dumb I could wipe my shoe with you!  How dare you call yourself a mechanics major-”

“Sorry?”  Loki interrupts.  His right ear suddenly feels sore.

The boy, upon closer inspection, has short, kinda curly black hair and a pair of pink tinted sunglasses on, the kind that are see through.  He’s wearing a suit, which looks a bit ridiculous because he’s even shorter than Loki.

“I knew you weren’t listening, you bastard,” the boy says cheerfully.  Loki’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline.  “Never mind.  I’m Tony.  What’s your name?”

If Loki finds it strange that the boy doesn’t mention his last name, he doesn’t show it.  “I’m Loki,” he says, returning the favor, shaking the outstretched hand awkwardly.  He’s never shaken hands with another thirteen year old before.  

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you!  For you, at least,” Tony says, then guffaws at his own joke.  Loki blinks.  “Come on, that was a good one!”

“Okay,” Loki says, trying not to feel weirded out.

“Hey, how come your wrist is so skinny?”  Tony interrogates.  “It’s like a girl’s wrist.”

Loki hides his hands behind his back.  “What are you talking about!?  How come you’re so fat?”  He claps a hand over his mouth, shocked at himself, but Tony is not fat.  He’s got a perfect build, not muscular like Thor, fat like Loki, or extremely skinny.

But Tony just laughs again.  “That what my grandma tells me,” he says, proudly patting his stomach.  “I ate a whole pizza once!  I love pizza.”

Loki smiles slightly, hands falling away.  

Just then, the warning bell comes.  “Ooo, gotta get going,” Tony says.  

“Me, too,” Loki stands up quickly.

“Hey, hey.  Just because you like me doesn’t mean you have to follow me everywhere!”  Loki glares daggers at him and Tony punches him lightly in the shoulder.  “Take a joke, man!”  Loki’s lips turn upward a bit again.

Until Tony leaves and Thor invades his mind once again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lies.  They’re all lies.

Stephanie was lying.  Thor was a stupid idiot.  Tony was a liar.

No, not Tony.  Anthony Stark, genius son of the famous Stark Industries.  A year older than Loki, but shorter.  

Loki drops the second place trophy in the recycle bin on his way home.  Maybe it would find a new home, a better home in the garbage man’s kid’s arms or something.

“How was the makeup test?”  Frigga asks him the next morning.

“Really bad,” Loki replies, tossing out the egg when she isn’t looking.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”  

“Yeah, me too.”  No you’re not.  You’re glad you’re not the only one failing school, Thor.  You’re glad because I ‘stole’ your girlfriend.

Liars.

 

 

* * *

 

 

High school is definitely a step up from middle school.  For the bullies, at least.

The teachers don’t really care anymore.  They don’t baby you and chase you down when you’re missing something.  They don’t hold ‘stop the bullies’ campaigns.

It’s survival of the fittest.

And that definitely doesn’t mean Loki, or he wouldn’t be stumbling home with torn schoolbooks in his backpack and bleeding bruises blossoming across his face and his whole body.  

Five against one.  Fucking cowards, all of them.  

Frigga and Odin are on a date of something, but Loki doesn't really care.  He’s glad they’re gone; no questions asked, just another day of hiding out in his room.  But when he walks into the kitchen, it’s Thor that greets him.

It had been so long.  He’d never really looked at Loki after Stephanie happened, even though the two did break up.  But here he was, striding over, exclaiming over Loki’s wounds.

As if they were little kids again.

Loki is too caught up in the dream, letting himself be led to the table and sat down, sitting still and listening to Thor talk about his day while he wipes Loki’s cuts and puts on shiny band aids.  Some of them are still Diego cartoonized.  

The dream shatters at the end, of course.  

“How could you let them do this to you?”  Thor asks, angry.  He stares Loki up and down and Loki feels tiny, weak, pathetic.  “I didn’t raise a brother of mine to be a weakling.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

A couple days later, Loki finds himself biking along the side of the road.  The studio is an hour away by bike, but he doesn’t have anything else to do.  

An old man answers the door.  He’s Asian, and the first thing Loki notices is that he’s shorter than him.  The man smiles and he looks so gentle that Loki doubts himself for a moment.

“Come in, come in!”  He says.  He’s obviously fluent, but has the Chinese accent that can never be shaken off anymore.  “You must be Loki Odinson?”

“Just Loki,” Loki says quickly.  Odinson sounds weird.  Brothers with the famous, popular Thor?  No way.

“Okay, okay.  Just Loki.  I’m Jackie,” the man smiles again.  “Loki, Jackie.  It is fate, no?”

“Umm...” Loki doesn’t know how to respond.

“Okay, okay.  Just, you know, lighten the atmosphere?”  Jackie said amiably.  Loki nods.

“Why you come here?”  Jackie asks suddenly.

“To... learn kungfu?”  Loki asks, surprised.

“But why?”  

“I...” He hesitates.  He doesn’t want to do the whole sob story thing in front of a total stranger.  But he feels like if he doesn’t have a good reason, Jackie wouldn’t take him seriously.  “I... I’m bullied at school.  But... I want to be stronger.  I have to... to teach them a lesson.”  Loki glares down at the mats.  “They’re fucking cowards, all of them.”  

He looks up quickly, because Jackie is an adult and adults disapprove of kids using swear words.  But Jackie is just wearing another smile, this one more understanding

He claps Loki on the shoulder and just for a moment, Loki feels the extreme power coursing through the veins of this old man, barely contained by his short Asian frame.  

“We’ll show those fucking assholes, won’t we?”  Jackie says, smile innocent.

At a loss for words, Loki just nods again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re a natural,” Jackie says one day.  Loki sits down on the mat, tired out.

“You’re a natural,” Jackie repeats.  “But your body fails you.”  Loki freezes.  This is it.  He doesn’t want to hear it.  That he’s a fat- “You’re too skinny.”

“What?”  He asks, because he must not have heard right.

“You heard me,” Jackie says disapprovingly.  It’s unnerving how he can see through people like that.  “You are too skinny.  Eat more.  Come, I treat you.”

“I-” Loki says, but he has no choice when the strong hand cages his forearm and he finds himself sitting down a Chinese family restaurant.

He gets filled with food that day.  Rice, vegetables, soup, meat.  

“No more unhealthy American trash,” Jackie says proudly, smiling.  “I forbid you.  No hamburgers, pizza, french fries.  No pie.  Even if pie is good,” he admits.

Caught up in the moment, filled with food and Jackie’s good spirit, Loki laughs.

Jackie laughs too.  “First time!”  He exclaims.  

“What?”  Loki asks.  

“First time I see you smile!”  Jackie says, engrossed in his own success.

“I’ve smiled before,” Loki says indignantly.

“First real smile,” Jackie says, leaning in, eyes twinkling.

“How do you do that?”  Loki asks without thinking.

“What?”  Jackie says innocently.

“That!  One moment you’re smiling, then you’re serious.”  Loki hadn’t realized Jackie was The Jackie Chan until last night and had consequently spent the night binge watching his old movies.  “And in your movies!  You’re so intimidating, your eyes could kill even without your kungfu.”

“That is secret,” Jackie says.  “Secret of kungfu.”  Loki withers.  “But I think you know it already,” Jackie adds.

Loki thinks back to the mask he created to hide his own dark clouds, the smile he used for his mom and family.  And he thinks about how easily Jackie peeled it off.

Maybe because Jackie had his own.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The first time Loki defeated the five bullies all on his own was also the time Jackie collapsed, near the end of Loki’s freshman year.

“Low blood sugar and fatigue,” the doctors explained.  Loki was alone by Jackie’s bedside.  “Nothing to do with what he eats, of course.  He’s just getting old, and all the old wounds and scars are coming back to haunt him.”

At home, Loki sits on his bed alone.  The scene feels achingly familiar to him, before he had begun spending all free time at Jackie’s studio, practicing or watching the other classes.  

That night, he refuses dinner, claiming to be sick.  

He does feels sick, and not just in his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I'm such a slow writer D: I'm one of those who can't write unless I'm inspired. I will try harder! Sorry for mistakes, it's not proofread T_T


	4. All Of Me... Is Fake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "On the wall of the entrance hall, a slim shadow slips past a tall, muscular one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million and one thanks for everyone that appreciates this story and its useless author, especially those that leave love~
> 
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> 
> I don't know what you guys see in this.

“Where did you go?”  Thor demanded as soon as Loki walked in the door.  Loki shrugs and slips off his shoes, stacking them neatly on the rack, aligning them perfectly so that he doesn’t have to meet Thor’s eyes.

Not that he had anything to hide; he just didn’t want to look at him, was all.

“You haven’t been home for dinner for a week, brother,” Thor continues in that obstinate way of his.  “One can’t help but worry-”

“Maybe I finally found some friends,” Loki cut in, staring right into Thor’s eyes, green meeting blue.  And, because Loki had been steeling himself, building up the barrier behind his irises while making sure there was exactly one inch between his sneakers and his mother’s flip flops, Thor is the first to look away.

On the wall of the entrance hall, a slim shadow slips past a tall, muscular one.

Loki closes the door and lays down in bed.  He turns on his side and contemplates the black cloth belt draped over the knob of his closet door.  He knows there is a short robe and pants on the other side, the exact contrasting color.  But he doesn’t want to open it, even though he knows it’s fruitless to try and forget.

Oh, he’d been trying, all right.  But, judging by the fact that he could now greet the old couple that ran the Chinese restaurant in fluent Chinese, he probably wasn’t succeeding.

He was a regular there now.  It wasn’t even the doing of his brain synapses; his feet had kept betraying him, wandering down that now familiar route, the very stones on that particular road intimate with the soles of his shoes.

And day after day he had sat there, not ordering, not moving, a textbook prostrate before him, unread.

At least he now knew the Chinese for “Are you okay”.

 ~~Mei shi~~ (okay).  I’m not okay.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Loki’s freshman year concludes way too slowly.

At least he had a growth spurt.  Now he can look Thor in the eye, and use the secluded upperclassman seats in front of the library without being chased off.  He felt less lonely when there were less empty seats to stare at.

As usual, time passes Loki in an endless circadian rhythm.  To him, life felt like deep mud; just keep going, and maybe he would reach the end someday, and dry land.

Of course, there are obstacles along the way.  And despite Loki believing he had let go of everything that mattered to him, there was still one left, the one clinging with the tenacity of a crab’s claw no matter how much Loki tried to shake it off.

Thor got a new girlfriend.

She was a senior, and somehow taller than him.  It actually made Loki laugh a little, his first time seeing them together.  A giggle that wormed its way past the tight knots around his chest.

She had blonde hair, of course, with dark brown eyes and a fake tan.  Her hair was curly and full.  She was full everywhere; full lips, full body, head literally full of shit.

She was the exact opposite of Loki.

They had prom early that year, for some reason.  Apparently parents were complaining about it being too close to test week, the last week of school.  Although it was only for seniors, Thor had been going since even middle school.  And this year was no exception.

It was an uneventful day for Loki, of course.  He stayed particularly long at Hong Mei Chinese Cuisine.  The owner’s granddaughter was in, a playful little girl of five with pigtails secured in red ribbon.

“Ni hao,” she said brightly to Loki, and Loki replied the same.

“Ni hao.”

She had squealed and plopped herself in his lap.  “Nai nai, nai nai!  Ta hui shuo zhong wen!”  She exclaimed.  Grandma!  He can speak Chinese!

“Bie da rao ke ren le, guo lai!”  Don’t bother the customers, come here!

Despite everything, Loki had spent a good part of the evening with a child on his knees, being bombarded with a stream of relentless Chinese.

It was eleven when he left, half an hour past closing time.  The little girl, Mei, had finally retired to bed.  The grandma walked him to the door, apologizing for her granddaughter’s clinginess.

“It’s not a problem,” Loki repeated.  “Mei shi, mei shi.”

“Thank you so much,” grandma gushed, pressing a takeaway box of dumplings into his hands.  “You are so nice.  Such a charming young man.  Come back soon!”  She added, waving him away.

Loki walked home with the fireflies, occasionally visited by a moth that brushed his ear with a whisper.

The house is silent when he gets home, slipping off his shoes and throwing them in the general area of the rack.  He assumes that Odin and Frigga had gone on vacation again.  It wasn’t the first time they had forgotten to mention it to him.  He treads upstairs, guided by the light of his own eyes.  

The door to his room is ajar, which is strange because Loki always closes it.  He slips in and closes it quietly behind him despite the emptiness in the house, when suddenly he is slammed against the wall.

It’s Thor.  And he’s way too close.

The scent of dumplings falling from lax fingers mixes in with the previously unnoticed reek of alcohol.  Thor presses Loki into the wall, muscular arms making a cage on either side of his head.

“Thor?”  Loki whispers, frightened.  He can see Thor’s face despite the darkness; he had always been an owl in the night.  It’s flushed, his eyes are lidded, and Thor is breathing heavily.

“Loki, is that you?”  Thor breathes out, breath fanning across Loki’s face.  Loki cringes and shrinks away.

“Thor, you’re drunk!”  Loki grinds out, putting his hands on Thor’s loosened dress shirt and pushing.  It’s about as useful as an ant trying to push a tree out of place.

“You’re never home, Loki,” Thor continues, and this time his hand comes down to caress Loki’s cheek.  Loki freezes into place, hands falling limply to his sides.

“Why are you never home?”  Thor asks, and then his face comes down.

Their second kiss was dirty, reeked of alcohol, and was more on Loki’s nose than his actual lips.  But the Thor adjusted and moved down, kissing with all the experience of the most popular guy in school.

Tears, which had not made an appearance since... since, well, Jackie, beaded underneath Loki’s closed eyes and wobbled down his cheeks.

Thor pulled away and Loki moved again, trying to push his way out.  His breath was catching in his throat.  This wasn’t what he wanted.  He didn’t want it to be like this.

But Thor is still the stronger one, and his hands travel under Loki’s sweatshirt, up the abs made by kungfu training, rubbing a trail of fire that ended with Thor’s thumbs on his nipples and his lips on his collarbone.  But this fire wasn’t warm, or soothing.  It hurt, and burned, and Loki just wanted to get away.

“Thor!”  Loki screamed, sobbing.  The trickle had turned into the Niagra now, and was rolling down his neck.  “Stop!  Stop, please!”  Thor groaned and rubbed something stone hard onto Loki’s thigh, hands coming out to grab onto the hem of Loki’s sweatshirt.

Thor looked up, confused, when he licked Loki’s collarbone and found a saltwater lake instead.  Using this, Loki slipped away, discarding his sweatshirt.  He blazed a trail of fire to the bathroom, whereupon he locked the door securely and collapsed towards the toilet, heaving up the sweet red bean buns Mei had shared with him.

When he was done, he stood up.  A shadowy figure stared back at him through the mirror.  The white t shirt hung off one shoulder.  His hair, just past the collar of the shirt, was wild and wet at the tips.  His eyes were swollen, and the green was clear, as if all the color now resided in the reservoirs in between his collarbones.

Suddenly, Loki felt the hands again, moving all over his body.  He slumped forward, clutching his stomach.  Something in his eyes grew fervent, and he slammed open drawers and cupboards, searching for something.  What was it?

Then he spotted it.  It glinted sharply in the light of the fireflies suddenly filling the air, lighting up the bathroom brightly in a flash of light that held all the color that ever was.

Thor’s razors.

Loki had never had the need to shave, for some reason.  His chin always stayed smooth.  And it was just as well, because Loki thinks that he would look weird with a beard.  Facial hair was extra work, anyway.

He pulls one out and holds it in his hand, staring at it.  The white light makes his hand appear ghostly.  

Maybe he won’t even bleed.

In one quick movement, before he can rethink it, he draws the blade across the forearm of his left wrist, near the elbow.  He had been aiming for the radial artery, but something had moved his hand.

Maybe he wasn’t meant to die just yet.

The razor clatter to the ground, spraying it with a shower of red droplets.  Loki stared at his own arm, strangely fascinated.  There was a slit there, and when he stretched out his arm, it pulled apart, showing pudgy filler fat and the red of broken capillaries.  A stream of red ran down his arm and wet the sleeve of his white t shirt, as if he had been sweating blood.

Loki leans over the counter, blocking the drain and filling the sink with water.  He holds his arm over it, watching the blood drip into the clearness and billow outwards.  He moved his arm.  Loki was cultivating a garden of bloodred roses.  The fireflies ahead congregated into a single ray of white moonlight.

Suddenly, a stabbing pain shot through him and he collapsed onto the counter, clutching his left arm with trembling fingers.  He watched in horror as the beautiful roses morphed before his eyes, becoming grotesque, leering up at him.

Weak, they seemed to say.

Loki hurriedly pulled the plug, the water meeting the suction and becoming a pink hurricane.  He bound his arm with toilet paper, mindlessly unrolling and rolling until he realized that all he had in his hand was an empty brown telescope.  His left forearm was the size of a watermelon.  

Loki was past caring.  He ripped up some duct tape and wrapped that around as well, stepping towards the door.  With a click, he unlocked it.  And then he was away, a wraith flitting through the house and out the front door in only his socks.

The sole of the right one had a line of red dots sunken into it, like a wayward slash of an artist’s paintbrush.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Grandma finds him unconscious outside the door when she opens for business at eight in the morning.

She immediately flips the “OPEN” sign back around, so that it now says, “CLOSED”.  Preparations for the day are halted; chairs restacked, rice cookers turned off.

Loki still doesn’t wake, so she rips open the “cast” on his arm and inspects the wound, as well as the two hickeys on his neck, his swollen lips, and the salt tracks on his cheeks.

The first thing she does is bind the wound.  It’s not too deep, but it will leave a scar.  She rubs it with herbal essences and fastens it with care.  The hickeys are swabbed then clothed in band aids.  The sea salt is wiped away.

Loki wakes up on a hard bed with the overhead light on the smallest setting.  The room looks caramel.  The pain in his arm had receded to a barely noticeable dull throb.

“You are awake,” a familiar voice says, and Grandma walks in with a bowl of rice porridge.

Loki is silent until she places it by his bedside, and then he cries.

That day is never talked about again.  Thor doesn’t remember, and Loki pretends he doesn’t.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Loki’s graduation from high school is nothing special.  It came right at the same time as Thor’s record-breaking junior year spring football season, and even college coaches are there, scouting them.  

He leaves the house alone, without ceremony, without anyone to see him off.  A backpack is all he has; inside are his old laptop, two changes of clothes, some underwear, and the Lord of the Rings.

Odin and Frigga had signed his documents, and he had been the one to meet up with the representative from MIT.  He had warmed up to Loki immediately, saying something about seeing the genius reflected in Loki’s eyes.

“We don’t often accept early comers, especially ones that skip two years of high school, but the true geniuses always bend the rules.”

Odin and Frigga hadn’t even known what they’d signed for.  After all, he had told them and asked them right before their meeting with the college football coach.

The walk down the street is nostalgic.  Loki looks around wistfully.  He doesn’t feel sad, or happy, just empty.  This neighborhood is empty.  It holds nothing for him.  

He has let go of them for good, now.

Now he has one more spot to visit before he hails a cab to get to the airport.  He arrives at his destination on feet that had memorized the way long ago.  Grandma immediately spots him among the customers and comes over to pull him into the back.

“My little boy has grown up,” she says, tears in her eyes that make up for Frigga’s inattentiveness tenfold.

“You’ve only known me two years, nai nai,” Loki says, smiling.

Mei prances in.  It’s her last couple months of freedom before she starts school soon, and she knows it.  There are sweet red bean buns in her hands and mouth and she’s dressed up to go to the zoo.

“I’ll miss you, Loki-gege!”  A year had wrought miracles on a child’s tongue, and she now spoke English fluently.

“I’ll miss you, too, Mei,” Loki said, allowing her to stuff his cheeks with a bun.  The taste filled his mouth with sweetness, and Loki would be lying if he said he wasn’t sad.

“Come visit us,” Grandma called out to him as Loki left with a full tummy and the potential for another one in takeout boxes pushed into his hands.

When the airplane rises into the air to take Loki to his new life, the plasticky pasta tastes like freshly cooked lo mein noodles and the hard dinner roll is reminiscent of hot steamed buns.

Loki even fancies that if he cut into one of the clouds, it would have a center of sweet red bean paste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no explanation for myself and my tardiness.


	5. From Now On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "After that, the only memories Thor had of Loki were of a flitting shadow, voice as breathy and silent as a weak breeze."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I return your love tenfold! Thank you so much for kudos and comments!
> 
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If he was honest with himself, then Thor Odinson would have to admit that he hadn’t noticed that Loki was gone until the day after.  

Okay... maybe it was couple days.  Or a week.

But that wasn’t the point.  The point was that one day he had called for Loki to help him with some homework (Loki seemed to know everything, even the strangest knowledge that was never elaborated on in class) and he had received no answer.

“Loki?”  Thor tried again.  Hmm.  Strange.  Loki had been really quiet lately, he suddenly noticed.  Evasive, even.  Loki could be the sneakiest ever when he didn’t want to see anyone, and recently he had been doing it so often that neither Thor nor his parents thought anything was out of the norm.

Thor hesitated at the door of Loki’s room.  For some reason, Loki had been so strange the last time Thor had seen him.  Thor racked his brains, trying to find out why.

To his horror, he couldn’t remember anything to do with Loki for several years back.

There as to be something, he told himself.  Something that we did together, a moment that we enjoyed.  A conversation.  But all that he could remember was Loki in the kitchen, bruised up and bloody.

(Thor had taken care of those bastards quite soon after that for having the gall to pick on his, Thor Odinson’s, little brother.  He had also issued a warning to the other bullies.)

After that, the only memories Thor had of Loki were of a flitting shadow, a voice as breathy and silent as a weak breeze.  

A feeling of foreboding starting from Thor’s toes to spread throughout his body, he rested his hand on the knob and turned.

An empty room stared back at him.

“Loki!”  Thor called out.  No answer.  He walked through the rest of the house, through the hallways and the kitchen and the living room and the office and even the basement and the garage.  He flew through the house, digging behind old closets and the laundry room as if they were in preschool again and Loki was just being unfairly good at hide-and-seek.  

He ended up back in Loki’s room behind the drawer, where there was a narrow space that might’ve, could’ve, held Loki.  He was panicking a bit now, thinking of all the possibilites.

_He’s at a friend’s house.  No- Loki doesn’t have any friends._

_He’s studying at school, or the library.  But it was Saturday, and their parents had been gone since four AM for some meeting or other._

_Oh god.  He’s run away from home!  Wait- Loki wouldn’t do that, would he?  He doesn’t have any friends, so he doesn’t have anywhere to go..._

_He was kidnapped._

For a moment, Thor considered rushing downstairs to grab his phone and dial 911, especially since he wasn’t even sure how long Loki had been gone.  However, he took a breath to calm himself and think clearly.

Thor looked at the closet again.  It was almost completely bare.  The underwear drawer was empty, and Lord of the Rings was missing from Loki’s bookshelf.  Upon further inspection, the toothbrush and toothpaste was gone from the bathroom.

Disregarding Odin and Frigga’s warning about interruptions, he went back to the kitchen and dialed their number.

Thor chewed his lip and tried to brainstorm ways to start the conversation as the phone rang.

_So, mom.  See... uh... Loki’s not home._

She would kill him.

_I think Loki’s run away from home._

Worst thing to say.

_Loki’s been kidnapped._

He would be the one kicked out then.

_“Yes?”_

“Oh!  Ah... uh... hey mother!”

_“What did I say about interruptions at work, Thor!?”_

“Well... the thing is... it’s a bit important...”

_“It can’t be so important that I can’t do my work, can it?”_

“Er... it’s about... Loki.”

_“What?  What about Loki?  He hasn’t been beaten up again, has he?  It’s been a couple months already-”_

“No, it’s not that,” Thor said, shaking his head vehemently.  His threat had definitely sunk deep with those bullies.  “It’s just... he’s not home.”

_“...oh.”_

“And I might just be jumping to conclusions, but I think he’s been kidnapped,” Thor said in a rush.

It was eerily silent for a moment.  Thor gulped.  Curse his flapping mouth.

“ _I’ll be home_ ,” Frigga said, and then the dial tone sounded.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Loki was completely used to being ostracized, so it didn’t bother him when the older students all turned around to glare at this new addition, apparently several years younger than them, to their class.

He was content to find a spot alone at the back.  His sharp eyesight prevented him from missing anything the professor said; and, besides, he knew everything anyway.  He had skimmed the textbook the night before and found it laughably easy to comprehend.

So here he was now, looking out the window and musing.  There was a rosebush on the opposite side of the courtyard he saw.  There were several roses still in bloom; a few were halfway withered.  One... two... there were sixteen.

With a start, Loki realized that his sixteenth birthday was approaching.  Sweet sixteen, as it was usually referred to.

Maybe he would buy a Twinkie to commemorate.

“Hey y’all!  I’m Tony Stark and I thought I’d drop in today.  Lucky you!”

Loki’s head snapped up and he stared.  He rubbed his eyes.  Then stared again.

It really was him.  That brat from that robotics competition so long ago!  It was definitely him, although three years older.  The same dark and roguish features, although now they were going in the direction of good-looking.  The arrogant glint in the eye, and the obnoxious way of talking.

Anthony Stark looked up, meeting Loki’s eyes.  Two pairs of eyes widened, and Loki quickly looked to the left and down, black hair grown long falling to cover his face.

It didn’t work, because apparently he had been recognized.

“You there in the back!”  Loki pretended to be engrossed in his notes.  “Hey!  You!  Someone get him!”

The senior in front of him turned around and scowled.  “Hey, freshman.  Pay attention.”

Loki looked up reluctantly.

Anthony was ready for him.  “Hey you!  Come up here right now.”  Loki raised his eyebrows as if confused.  “Yes, you!  I’m getting impatient now!”

“Mr. Odinson!”  Loki flinched at the name.  “Get your head out of the clouds and get up here right now!”  The professor crossed his arms and frowned at Loki.

Loki sighed and laboriously stood up.  He walked down the stairs to the small raised platform, feeling the eyes of the other students boring into his back.  The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up.

“Mr. Odinson, was it?”  Anthony said, a sparkle in his eye.  He remembers me, Loki groaned.  He didn’t expect any less from a proven genius.  Loki pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded, resigned to hearing that name for the rest of the lesson, which was about... ten minutes.  Ten minutes and he was free.

“Hm... I don’t like that.  Why don’t I just call you by your first name... Loki?”  Loki’s eyes widened.  He even remembered that?  Now that was unexpected.  Loki prided himself on his ability to not be remembered.  “After all, I’m only one year old than you,” Anthony laughed, slapping Loki on the back.

How in the world did he know that?

Loki was juggled from his thoughts when Anthony turned to face the class, causing Loki to have to turn to look too.  About thirty pairs of eyes stared at him; attendance exceeded capacity today.  Loki’s whole body crawled.  It had been so long since so many people had looked at him.

“This is Loki!”  Anthony announced.  “He’s an awesome dude.”  Loki turned to stare at Anthony, shocked.  “His sixteenth birthday is next week, and don’t you forget it!”  Murmurs started among the students.  

He’s only fifteen?

“Class dismissed!  Go to your girlfriends, you bastards,” Anthony said cheerfully.  “Let’s go, Loki.”

“Wait!  I need... uh... my stuff...”  Loki trailed off under Anthony’s confident gaze.

“Of course!  How could I forget?  Let’s go.”

Loki was thoroughly confused by this suddenly friendliness.

Even if Anthony remembered him, why would he voluntarily associate himself with Loki?  He couldn’t have missed the way Loki sat all alone in the back, obviously the epitome of social awkwardness and isolation.

Maybe it was just pity.

But Loki was unused to that, too, and he’d learned to be happy while things last and not grow too attached to them so that it didn’t hurt when they were torn away.  

For some reason, Anthony followed Loki back to the basement he rented in a small nearby town.  He clucked his tongue at the sorry state of the dilapidated mattress and plastic ramen wrappers in the corner, eaten dry because Loki didn’t have anything to boil water.

“Is this really where you live?”  Anthony frowned disapprovingly.

For some reason, Anthony always managed to annoy Loki and cause him to speak when he normally would’ve kept quiet.

“Noooo,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.  For some reason, Anthony found this hilarious.

“Anyway, got anything for dinner other than dry ramen?”  Anthony rubbed his stomach.  “I’m feeling a bit peckish.”

“It’s one in the afternoon,” Loki deadpanned.  “You probably just had lunch.”

“I did!”  Anthony agreed.  “But my poor stomach is demanding more food.  Just listen to that poor baby.  Aww, mommy understands~”

Loki grunted.  “Let me check... I have ramen, ramen and... ramen.  Oh, look!  It’s a cup ramen!”

Anthony grabbed three packs of ramen and started to head upstairs.  “Wait, where are you going?”  Loki demanded.

“Upstairs.  I saw the stove when we were coming in.  We should at least boil them,” Anthony said.  “I’m not eating dry ramen noodles.”

“Wait, I’m not allowed to use the stove,” Loki said hurriedly.  The terms had been clear; stay in the basement out the way and the rent would be kept down.  Loki really didn’t have much money; he worked three part time jobs and had some savings, but they barely kept him by.  And he’d had to lie about his age, but forging the documents had been easy after accessing a library computer and printer.

Anthony snorted.  “They can’t be that strict, can they?  Come on, just this once.”

Loki was unable to hold up, and he eventually followed Anthony onto the first floor with a bad feeling in his gut.

Sure enough, the landlord came back just as the smell of ramen was filling the small flat.

“Um...”  Loki found himself tongue tied, alternating his gaze between the boiling pot and the twenty-something-year-olds at the door.  Anthony was in the bathroom.

“What the fuck!”  One of them growled.  “I thought I made it clear to not use the fucking stove!  Shit, do kids these days never listen?”

Loki’s mouth opened and closed, unable to even form a word.  His mind filled with memories; getting beat up, being pounded into the ground.

Anthony chose that moment to walk out of the bathroom, scratching his butt.  “I think I’m allergic to your toilet paper, Loki-”  He suddenly realized the situation.  “Well now, gentlemen.  I think we have a misunderstanding here-”

“What misunderstanding?”  The thug growled.  “So you’re bringing your dirty little friends in here now, huh?”

“Hey now!”  Anthony said.  Loki wanted to tell him to stop before it was too late.  “Dirty may be correct, but I don’t appreciate the little!”

“What, you shrimp?”  The man scoffed.  “Even bugger boy over there is taller than you.”

It was true.  Loki was a bit tall for his age.

Anthony scowled.  “Now that’s going a bit far-”

The unexpected punch caught him straight across the face.  

“Anthony!”  Loki cried out unintentionally.

“Shit,” Anthony rubbed the side of his face.  “Really wish I had finished my Robosuit.”

“I’m not done with you yet,” the man snarled.

Without thinking Loki leapt forward, catching the punch in the air and twisting his arm.  His karate training kicking in, he disposed of the larger quickly and efficiently, finishing with a pinch that made the other drop unconscious on the ground at his feet.

“Where the fuck did you learn to fight like that?”  Anthony stared, amazed.  “And why wasn’t I told this precious information before my face became a punching bag?”

“Shut up,” Loki muttered.  It was all done now.  Ruined.  He wouldn’t be able to afford any other housing.  He would have to give up on independency.  He would have to quit MIT.  He would have to go back... back to the Odinsons.  And Thor.  He angrily wiped a tear away.  He was embarrassed at himself for crying.

“Hey kid, don’t cry now,” Anthony said, tone uncharacteristically gentle.

“Who’s crying?”  Loki demanded, and the tears were gone now.  He was practiced at pretending, at sucking the tears back into their ducts.  The only sign of Loki’s distress was the glossiness of his very green eyes.

Anthony sighed.  “You idiot.  Just stay with me.”

“What?”  Loki couldn’t believe his ears.  

“You heard me.  I have too much space.”  Anthony was muttering now, as if embarrassed.  “There’s plenty of room at the Stark tower, so... And it’s pretty neat, too, since I designed it a couple years ago and it’s all new and updated, and there’s JARVIS, a computer who has everything you’ll need, he’s like a digital butler but he’s better than a normal butler and-”

“Thank you so much,” Loki breathed, feeling a load lighten on his chest.  “Thank you so much... Anthony.”

The other stared at Loki for a little.  Then he seemed to recover.  “Hey, no problem.  Just one thing.”

“Yeah?”  Loki said eagerly.  He was willing to do anything.  Clean the toilets, wash Anthony’s socks...

“Call me Tony please?  Anthony sounds so stuffy.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Even Kaila couldn’t cheer up Thor.

Loki had left.  Just like that.  To MIT of all places.  Sure, it wasn’t far; a few hours drive was all it took to get there.  But... he had left.  Without letting them know.

Well, he had, Thor thought guiltily.  At least, he had tried.

Why had Loki hidden such a big accomplishment as getting into MIT?  Two years early, too.  Thor wasn’t interested in science and math, but even he knew the reputation of MIT.

How long had Loki been hiding his accomplishments?

A crash brought Thor out of his thoughts.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”  Kaila had knocked something down, a trinket among the numerous things in their basement.  Thor’s blood ran cold as he recognized Loki’s name engraved on a brass plate.  

It was a trophy.  In pieces.  Thor read the title.  

First place.

And they hadn’t even known.

Suddenly, Thor felt furious.  “Get out of here!”  He yelled at Kaila.  She stared at him, shocked.  “Get the hell out of here, you bitch!”  

He collapsed on the couch as she ran out, mascara already pouring in rivulets down her face.  Thor dropped his head into his hands and he sat hunched over on the couch, the broken pieces of Loki’s old trophy mocking him from their place on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah... guess who decided to update... hahaha...


	6. The Birth of Loki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Loki smiled that smile that seemed to twist something inside."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your kudos and comments keep me going~ <3<3<3
> 
> Thanks to Sheria2013, withoutqueen, aimer, FalcaPeregrina, winternight2308, tinyboxtim, Cortassian, Motionless_In_Purple, Motionless_In_Purple, Potterinu, kaneki_vampire, pinknoonicorn, Laydee_Liesmith, mayflower27, thestarsasdestiny, Chitterboo1, DaughteroftheKindlyWest, The_Immature, ArtOfWar, Akira_kun17, Zeegreatest, meisu, mel8, martyrinthemaking, HunterTala, 1Essence_of_Asgard, p7ro, lanned, PhreshxxxBear, Hugepuffball, and 55 more guests!

“So, you know our sons?”

“Oh yes.  Thor, right?  Star of the football team?  Doesn’t he already have scholarships planned for the best football colleges?”

“Well!  That’s true, of course.  Completely true.  But- we have another son-”

“You do?  Why, I never knew that!  How come he never appears at our parties?  If he’s anything like Thor, then it would’ve been a pleasure to receive him!”

“Ah... you see, he’s nothing like Thor.  But that’s not the point!  He recently graduated and went to MIT!”

“Really!?  Is he older than Thor, then?”

“Nope!  He’s younger-two years younger, in fact.”

“Wow!  He must be a genius then!  How lucky of you, to have two such brilliant sons!”

“We are, aren’t we?  Hey look- Loki might be coming back home soon, you have to meet him!”

“I would love to!  Wait- Loki?  I think I heard that somewhere... My son mentioned his name!  I don’t quite remember when... and what was it that they said?  Oh!  That Loki was a creepy loner.”

“Hahaha!  That must’ve not been our son!  Loki’s a pretty common name!  Haha!  You’ll see...”

Thor’s hand clenched around the fork he was holding, stabbing it into the untouched steak on his plate.  He glared down at it as it quivered, frustration rising up in him.

How could his parents be like that?  One moment, they pretended Loki didn’t exist, and as soon as he achieved something, he was now a celebrity?  And Thor had tried every way of contacting Loki, failing when he realized that Loki had never gotten a phone.

At the same time, he realized with a sense of shame that he was just the same.  He had been ignoring Loki all these past years.  He had told himself it was because their interests were different, but he knew the truth now.

He had been embarrassed by Loki.  In the wake of the enlightenment he had experienced, he had realized all of his feelings towards his brother- jealousy, at his ease with learning, at his gracefulness, and even perhaps at his looks; Loki was exotically beautiful, with his long black hair and emerald eyes, and Thor was just bulky roughness.

The feeling of shame and remorse overwhelmed Thor and his slammed his fists down on the table.  A handful of green peas tumbled off the edge of his plate and rolled towards the ground.  They weren’t as green as Loki’s eyes.

“What’s wrong, Thor?”  Frigga asked anxiously?  “Are you feeling unwell?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Thor muttered.  Invisible waves of darkness radiated from him, preventing any further questioning.

“He’s just upset that his brother is so far away, now,” Frigga laughed, patting their neighbor’s hand.  The other woman laughed as well.

“I’m going to visit him tomorrow,” Thor suddenly said.  The decision was on the spot and unexpected, by him and by his parents.  They turned to him in surprise.

“But don’t you have school?”  Odin said.

Thor shrugged.  “We don’t have any tests, and half my teachers won’t be there.  It’ll be fine.”

“If you think so...”  Odin said suspiciously.

“Oh, let the boy go!  He misses his younger brother so!”  Frigga laughed, patting their neighbor’s hand some more.  The other was beginning to look a bit uncomfortable now.

Thor swallowed past the unpleasant lump in his throat and turned around to make his way upstairs.

That night, Thor dreamt of what he could possibly say to Loki upon meeting him.  Each time, dream Loki turned away haughtily and said, “So you finally realized how much I’m worth?”  And each time, Thor would beg him to come back, to no avail.  Finally, when he woke up with a start at five in the morning, he couldn’t think of anything else to say but, “I’m sorry.”

The most direct way had always worked out in the end for him.

After eating some toast, Thor got in the car and started the five hour drive.  He had brought his wallet and some clothes, just in case he could stay over.

After paying for parking, Thor attempted to enter the campus.  However, he was stopped by a man, who asked for his ID.  Confused, Thor complied, and the guard told him that only students, teachers, and authorized personnel could enter.

“I’m visiting my brother,” Thor explained.  The guard looked at him critically.  As if someone who went to MIT could be the relative of this generic school jock!

“What is his name?”  The guard asked, just to be polite.  

“Loki Odinson,” Thor replied.  

The guard’s eyes widened.  He checked Thor’s driver’s license again, staring for a bit at the last name.  

“You can go,” he said gruffly, returning the card.  “But they probably won’t be here!”  He called after Thor.  Thor turned around, confused.  

“They?”  He asked.

“Loki Odinson and Tony Stark,” the guard said impatiently.  “The two geniuses of MIT.  They’re smart enough that they can get credits without coming to class.  They’ll probably be lounging around at the Stark Tower at this time.”  The guard rolled his eyes, his tone carrying a hint of jealousy, but mostly admiration and wistfulness.

Thor felt something in him stir.  Was it anger?  Or jealousy?  He wouldn’t know.  But he did know that Loki was staying with someone else, most likely even a stranger.  

Loki was so naive!  What if the stranger tried something with him?

Thor rushed out of the gates like an angry lion and slammed into his car, peeling out of the driveway before the guard had time to blink.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Loki yawned as light poured into the room.  “Jarvis~” He groaned.

“It’s time to wake up,” Jarvis declared in a monotone voice from somewhere around the ceiling.  “It is ten o’clock.”

“Ten!?”  Loki leapt out of bed.  Or tried to.  He was held down by an arm around his waist and a leg anchoring him to the mattress.  “Tony!  I told you to sleep in your own room!  Get out!”

One very sleepy Anthony Stark groaned as Loki tossed him bodily from the bed, landing on the floor in a tangle of pajamas printed with the image of the latest edition of his Robosuit.  “But you’re so warm.  And I’ve never had a roommate before.”

For a moment, Loki felt bad.  Tony seemed so lonely and forlorn.  Then he remembered the nights of suffocation he had already endured.  “OUT!”

Tony sniffed and wiped an imaginary tear from his eyes.  He had just stood up when JARVIS spoke from overhead, “Sir, an unidentified person is demanding entrance.  Should I let him in?”

“Yeah, it’s probably the delivery guy,” Tony yawned.  “Show him into the kitchen, JARVIS.  Maybe he would enjoy a spot of breakfast.  You know shitty a delivery job has to be.  Actually, now that I noticed, I’m really hungry, too.  Let’s go, Loki.”

“You go,” Loki sniffed.  “I need to change.”

“Change what?”  Tony guffawed.  “Your hairties?  C’mon, we’re not even going to class or anything.  PJs are the best clothing ever invented; it’s a complete shame that they’re banned outdoors.”

Loki reluctantly let himself be dragged along, putting up a show of being unwilling.  However, in his heart, something warm was blooming.  A small smile graced his lips as Tony pulled him hand first towards the kitchen.

And then Loki froze.

Sitting at the table was none other than Thor.

Time seemed to slow down immeasurably.  Loki’s eyes widened, and his mouth parted slightly, but the name did not come out.  The warm feeling was replaced by a rush of ice, of unwanted memories and hurtful thoughts.  His feet become immobile on the doorstep.

Tony turned, confused, when he found that his human had stopped moving.  Clasping their hands tighter together, he pulled a bit, and when that didn’t work, he grabbed Loki’s other hand and attempted to move him into the kitchen.  “Shit, Loki, why aren’t you-”

And then he was knocked onto the ground by a hard punch to the jaw by one tall, blonde hulk.

“What the hell?”  Tony muttered after the shocked silence passed.  “Was that for?”

But neither of the other two were paying attention.

“Let’s go home, Loki,” Thor said, trembling in anger.  Loki shook his head.  No.  He was never going back again, not after escaping.

“I won’t,” he whispered.  He glanced at Tony out of his peripheral vision, Tony who cuddled with him and played chess with him.  “I won’t,”  he repeated, looking Thor straight in the eye.  

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Thor said.  “I don’t like this.  You have no reason to sell your body just for a place to stay.  We can provide for you, brother-” Thor reached out and grabbed Loki’s hand, and something snapped in him.  

A single punch knocked Thor back several feet, which was more than any of his opponents could ever achieve.  Even if Loki was several sizes smaller than Thor, he was nearly his height, and his karate experience taught him to aim for the right places.

Thor stared at Loki in astonishment, but Loki felt... strange.  Strong.  Powerful.

“Don’t call me that, Thor,” he said, voice dangerously quiet.  He was smiling, even.  At this moment, the other two present in the room felt a chill run down their spines.  “I may be your brother in blood, but you know we were never brothers in relationship.  We didn’t even have a relationship,” he laughed.  “And now you dare to show up and punch my only friend in the face.  What a great brother.”  For some reason, Loki found the situation extremely funny.  He smiled, but it was a twisted smile.

“Loki-” Thor started.

“Get out,” Loki hissed.  “And never come back.”

That voice accepted no opposition.  Thor backed away.  “I’ll be back,” he muttered, before he was gone and the heightened feeling seemed to leave Loki in a rush.  He collapsed into a kneeling position on the floor.

“Hey there,” Tony said awkwardly after a couple of minutes.  “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Loki said.  And he did feel fine.  “I’m fine.  I did it.  It’s the first time... the first time I talked back to him.”  Loki was smiling again.

Tony moved forward and slung an arm around Loki’s shoulder.  “If you say so, buddy.”  The fight left Loki, and he rested against Tony’s shoulder.

“I don’t know how I did that,” he whispered.

Tony frowned.  “Me neither.  But I do know how I got this.”  A second bruise was blooming along Tony’s cheekbone, over the one that had barely healed from before.  “Honestly, how many love hits am I going to receive for you?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”  Loki gasped, reaching up without thinking to touch Tony’s face.  It was true, though.  Tony had been punched in the face twice already, and it had barely been a week.

Loki didn’t notice Tony stiffen and become awkward for a second under his ministrations.  Then Tony unwrapped his arm from around Loki’s shoulder and stood up abruptly.  “Hey, don’t worry about it.  I’m used to being a punching bag, what with the stuff I’m researching and building right now, anyway.”

“Oh!  I was wondering about that, anyway,” Loki said.  He’d heard Tony go on and on about it; his Robosuit.  Tony even had pajamas printed with the image of the invention.

Tony’s eyes lit up.  “You’re really interested?  Come with me!”

Loki allowed himself to be dragged to the elevator and taken down, deep below ground, to the bottom of the Stark Towers, Tony chattering all the while, half to himself and half to Loki.  The doors slid open and they went through several layers of security before a clear bulletproof door slid open and Loki stepped into Tony’s workshop.

It was extremely crowded, with tools and bits and pieces littering every surface.  A sad looking little robot stood in the corner.

“There are so many things I’m trying out,” Tony babbled.  “After creating JARVIS, I’m trying to make 3D projection a reality, and I’m really close to figuring it out.  But look!  Meet my Robosuit 300,” Tony said proudly, gesturing to a figure in the corner of the room.

Loki stared at it in silence.  It was a complete robotic body, created from metal partially painted red.  There were the beginnings of weapons on the arms and rockets on the feet.

“What do you think?” Tony asked.

“It looks like... an iron man,” Loki said quietly.  

“I was tinkering around one day and this started from some old pieces of scrap metal that I had already painted to be discarded.  I’m liking it more and more though; it might become a permanent project!”

“It’s fascinating!”  Loki declared.  He could see the ingenuity in the craftsmanship and design, although he had never been very interested in that route himself.  He was more of a chemist, someone who meddled on the micro and nano levels.

“It is?”  Tony blinked.  “Yeah, it is!  I’m such a genius, aren’t I?”  Loki looked at Tony with an unamused expression and Tony laughed.  “Come on, you gotta admit-”

With a swift punch, Loki had Tony groaning on the floor, head no longer blowing up from extensive self praise.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Over the next week, Thor continued to pursue Loki.  Loki pushed him away with less and less fervor, completely unused to the situation being turned around.  Instead of him being the one that had craved Thor’s attention and not gotten, now Thor was the one chasing after Loki’s every step.

Loki finally gave in when Thor threatened to sleep outside of Stark Tower like a hobo.  No matter how much Loki felt displeasure upon seeing Thor’s face, deep inside him, there was still a vestige of loyalty left that demanded that he not abandon Thor like a lost puppy.

And Loki realized Thor was just that.  A giant, immature puppy.  He had never grown up, never experienced the dark side of life that makes you realize just how bright the sunshine was.  To Thor, the sunshine was monotone because that was all he knew.  There was nothing to compare it to.

Loki went alone, although Tony stressed about accompanying him.  He figured that it wouldn’t do to get Tony involved again, although Tony had promised that he had nearly perfected Ironman (they both agreed that it was a better name than Robosuit).  

Loki was pretty sure that malfunction after a couple minutes didn’t mean success.

So now Thor and Loki were sitting across from each other at a cafe.  Loki had adopted his sarcastic, uncaring persona easily enough; now he was sitting with his cheek in his hand, staring outside.

Fifteen years had passed, and the two toddlers who had once played so happily together were now situated in a distant coffee shop, the awkwardness and tension between them lighting the air with a spark.  One of them, the handsome, hulking one, was staring pitifully at the smaller, more slender one.

“Please come back, Loki.”

Loki sighed.  Thor had no delicacy at all.  One might’ve thought that Thor would have thought this through and planned some elaborate speech, but of course he shouldn’t have expected much.  Thor knew only one way; blunt and straightforward.

“For the millionth time, Thor, I have no intention of returning.”

“Mother and Father changed,” Thor explained, desperately clutching his coffee cup.  Loki watched it idly, wondering if it would explode from the sheer force of Thor’s grip.  Actually, the question was when.  “They’re so proud of you now, you should hear them; they’re telling all the neighbors, and everyone knows your name-”

“Oh, do they now?”  Loki drawled.  “They knew my name before, too, though.  Loki, the weakling, the scapegoat,” Loki smiled that smile that seemed to twist something inside.  “So nice of your parents to notice me now.”  It didn’t even hurt that much to reject their parentage.  Maybe because they never had any.

“It’s different now,” Thor argued.  “Look, they all want to be your friends.”

Loki laughed.  “How kind of them!  Of course, I would love to be their friends, too,” Loki leaned forward when Thor’s face brightened.  “In Hell.”

Thor’s face crumpled, and for a second, Loki felt bad.  Somewhere deep inside him, a young child pushed against hard iron bars, trying to reach for his heart.  However, his small, chubby arm fell short, and the middle school aged Loki kicked him back into the cell, where he lay, unmoving.

“Please just come home for dinner, once,” Thor pleaded quietly.  Loki looked at him, placid.  “Just dinner.  We miss you.”

Loki wanted to laugh again, but he had run out of venom.  It would just sound weak, and stupid.  Actually, he was completely dry, now.  He had to escape this situation fast.

“Fine,” he muttered.  Thor’s stupid face brightened up again, like the sky after a storm.  “I’ll come.  Tell them I’ll be on a taxi tomorrow.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you sure this is okay?”  Tony fretted as Loki slid into the backseat of a taxi.  “If you need any help, give me a call and me and Ironman will be right over.”

“I suppose you’ll fly over on malfunctioning feet propellers?”  Loki said sarcastically.  “Honestly, I’ll be fine, so just relax and do your homework.”

Tony pouted and Loki waved goodbye as the taxi pulled away.

It was a several hour’s drive to Loki’s old home- Thor’s house.  Loki stared out at all the scenery passing by, roads and buildings from the street view that he had not seen while in the airplane.

Back then, he had felt like he was flying away, getting a new start.  Now, it felt like the world was pressing down on him again, like he was getting smaller and smaller and the things around him were getting bigger and bigger.

By the time he reached roads he recognized, his heart was pounding faster and something was stirring in his stomach.  

There was the daycare they had went to.  There was the clinic where they got their checkups.  The restaurant ten years ago... the park...

Loki considered calling Ironman to bring him a glass of water.

Thinking of Tony’s annoyed and enraged face made him smile and ease up a bit.  He looked wistfully out the window at a road that he knew lead the way to the old Chinese restaurant.  It had been a couple months; maybe they still remembered him?

By the time Loki was in his old neighborhood, he had slipped fully into his defensive persona.  It was easier this time, to step out of the taxi and smirk at the next door neighbor, a sophomore who had witnessed Loki getting beat up once before.  With a swish of his combed black hair, Loki’s black boots tapped their way up the steps to the house that had kept him imprisoned for so long.

The doorbell barely rang before the door opened.

“Loki!”  Frigga cried out, as she moved out to hug him, before pausing.  She stared at Loki; he had gone all out for today.  His shoulder length black hair was combed and gelled back; he had on an emerald green trench coat with an emerald green shirt, black skinny jeans, and black boots.  Tony had even applied his eyeliner, following a tutorial for anime cosplay.  And, above all, Loki was looking healthier and more filled out.  His very air held confidence.  He was unrecognizable.

“Hello, Mother.”  Loki stepped swiftly around her impending embrace, shedding his coat and seating himself at the table.  Thor and Odin were there already, looking up in shock when Loki casually sat at the foot of the table, where he had usually sat when he ate at all.

“Allfather, Thor,” he nodded to each as his long fingers moved the place setting next to Thor to his own chosen seat.  

“Loki.”  Odin said, seemingly too shocked for words.  Frigga appeared with dishes, silently putting them on the table.  Loki leaned forward and sniffed.

“Hmm, haven’t had salmon in a while.  Tony prefers Hawaiian pizza,” he noticed.  Of course, he didn’t mention that he also illegally got drunk on thousand dollar alcohol sometimes.

“Who’s Tony?”  Odin asked sharply.  Loki barely looked up as Frigga hesitantly sat next to Odin.  Loki liked it this way.  The true family at one half, him at the other half.  It suited him.

“He’s my roommate,” Loki said succinctly.  He saw no reason to get Tony involved further.

“Loki-”

“Why don’t we eat?”  Frigga cut in.  Loki didn’t blame her.  He could feel a lecture on the horizon, and he didn’t know how he would handle that at this moment.

Loki swiftly and elegantly sliced the dinner roll and meatloaf on his plate, and took a couple of bites.  Truthfully, he had never really tasted Frigga’s cooking before; it had always been him alone.  He found that the food was nowhere near Grandma’s.  Leaving most of it on his plate, he stood up.

“May I be excused?”  He asked politely.  “I’d like to visit my old room.”

“Loki-” Odin began thundering.

“Of course, of course!  You are excused,” Frigga said quickly, putting her hand on Odin’s shoulder.  Loki left him fuming in the dining room, taking the stairs and entering his old room.

The covers on his bed were made, but something had messed them up recently.  A couple of books lay on the floor, and the few clothes he had left behind were ironed and folded.  He scoffed as he bent down to pick up Ender’s Game, which was laying on his pillow.

It fell open to a piece of paper stuck between the pages.  Loki peered at it curiously, until his blood ran cold.

_Name: Loki Laufeyson_

_Adopted by: Odin and Frigga Allfather, parents of Thor Odinson_

_Notes:_

_ -parents killed in car crash facilitated by Odin Allfather. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Lol... Just got a C on my English essay...
> 
> Honestly, I think I'm too traumatized to write anymore.


	7. Third Time's the Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And, for the second time in 24 hours, he runs."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to LydiaJean1331, rawr_anna, decepticon_techno_organic, literalvantas, The_fandomist, LegaciesOfHeroes, KolMikaelsonsLove, Rikeyde, natalya329, willowdusk, frostfalcon, MyaLuv, loligadi, HadesLady, kittycat247, LittleBitGeeky, Norastyxx, Fluent, AdrianaBanner, xibalbaolmec, thebucketless13, Sebille, DevynGreenwood, ladylixa, Neonfartiez, MirageUchiha, Dade_The_Hero, lycanus1, Deaththekid, SonofCalypso, sexualthorientation (sexyscholar), BrownieOverlord, Starks_of_North, and 59 more guests for leaving kudos!!! 
> 
> I love you all, and I can't believe how wonderful you are! <333

_ They say you don’t notice what you’ve missed until it’s gone.  Thor had never thought about that statement again after hearing it, until now. _

_ It had been a few weeks since Loki just packed up his bags and left.  It was only after that Thor, Frigga, and Odin had realized that Loki didn’t have a phone, didn’t have any social media or forms of contact that they knew of.  Thor was just barely restraining himself from driving all the way up to Loki’s college and searching out the whole school. _

_ As it was, he was unable to keep away from Loki’s room.  It had been ages since he had been in there; it looked the same as it did back then.  Bare walls, muted and dark colors, sparse clothing.  The only thing that seemed personal about it was the bookshelf crammed with books most likely bought at garage sales and thrift shops. _

_ Thor walked over to it.  He was aching for something Loki, something familiar that he could hang on to.  He and his parents had just had an argument concerning Loki; something along the lines of Thor’s anger at their sudden pride in a son that they had never really paid attention to, fueled in part by shame of his own neglection.  And then they had dropped the bomb that had been ticking inside their house for nearly two decades. _

_ Loki was adopted. _

_ It wasn’t possible.  Thor had denied it has furiously as he could- even if he did not know the Loki now, that didn’t mean he didn’t remember all their good days growing up together.  There was no possible way... Then they had showed him the papers, the proof. _

_ He’d wanted to rip them up. _

_ Instead, he’d raced to Loki’s room and dropped to his knees beside that old, sagging bookshelf, pulling off a recently opened book and opening it to the page he had left off on.   _

_ As he scanned the well read words, he felt peace washing over him.  Thor could imagine Loki coming up here, holing himself in and spending time with stories and books that would respect him as long as he respected them.   _

_ He stood up reluctantly when Frigga called him down for dinner, using the discarded adoption papers as a bookmark.  He laid the book beside the bookshelf so he wouldn’t have to find it later, then made his way downstairs. _

_ Tomorrow he would go find Loki. _

  
  


Loki desperately wanted to rage, to shout, to be angry.  However, all he could feel was a fading shock and a growing numbness.  In fact, everything made perfect sense.  It all made sense.  Especially if the paper was telling the truth.

His father was an illegal immigrant.  And not just any illegal immigrant; he was a criminal.  The paper listed a history of crimes; drinking, divorce, fighting, stealing, and a series of fathered children, of which Loki was the youngest.  Loki’s mother was a well known scientist and intellectual who had been deceived by his father’s lies and ruined by him.

It made sense, in a sort of terrible way.

Loki stood up quickly, folding the paper and storing it in his pocket.  If he didn’t come down soon, they would start to think about him.  And that would just hurt their little brains.  

Loki clutched on to that one thing.  He would disregard his father- both of them- and follow in his mother’s footsteps.  He would continue on the path he had set for himself.  He would believe in science; and in Tony.  He would have nothing more to do with this family of strangers.  

Actual strangers, now.

When he walked downstairs, he was smiling strangely.  The whole situation was so shocking that he found it quite amusing.  The twisted smile was still on his face when he entered the kitchen and found it completely silent.  Most of the food was not touched.  Were they actually worried about him?  What a joke.

“Loki,” Thor said, standing up immediately.  Frigga did so to.  Odin just sat there, looking at Loki critically from his one eye.

“Well, I’m afraid I must bid you goodbye, Odinsons,” Loki stated, smirking.  “And please do me a favor and sign the name change form when it comes,” he added, cursing life for being so slow and for himself to still be a minor.  

“What do you mean?”  Thor asked incredulously.  “You would change your name?  Loki is perfectly fine name!”

“Not my first name, you twat,” Loki hissed, green eyes flashing dangerously.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper, original plan abandoned in the face of fury and defensiveness.  The whole family stared in silence and shock at the paper.

“Where did you find that, Loki dear?”  Frigga asked, her voice shaking.

“Oh Frigga dear, this was conveniently between the pages of one my favorite books.  What a coincidence, huh?  You know, it wouldn’t have been hard to tell me this face to face.  Or maybe a bit earlier.  But of course I was supposed to live my life in ignorance that I am the descendent of a criminal, huh?  Because I DESERVE it.”  Loki hissed the last phrase out, head lowered and eyes up, looking deranged.

“No!”  Thor boomed.  “It was an accident!  I left it up there when I went...” He trailed, having the decency to look ashamed.

“Thor.”  Loki stated softly.  “I never would have expected it of you, of all people.  But a surprise is always nice, too.  I thank you so much for revealing everything to me, like my- like Frigga and Odin never had done.  Now, if you will excuse me.”

“Sit down.”  

Loki froze for a moment by the doorway, body itching to go back and obey that authoritative order.  However, he unfroze himself and turned around, smile colder than winter in Antarctica.  

“I’m afraid not,” he said sweetly, green eyes piercing the blue of Odin’s.  And then he was out the door, boots slipped on quickly.

“Loki!”  Thor shouted after him.

No, Loki thought.  Don’t follow me.  Don’t  follow me.  But, of course, Thor went against his wishes as usual and latched onto Loki’s arm before he could call Ironman (because who gave a fuck about malfunctioning propellers, he wasn’t in the mood for a dingy old taxi).  The force of Thor’s tackle causes Loki’s phone to fly from his hand and fall onto the pavement, sliding across it facedown.

For a second, the two merely stare at it.  Thor’s grip falters and Loki almost pulls free before it tightens again.

“Loki...”  Thor says.  The name hangs in the air.  The tension, the electricity crackling between them, is palpable.

“Why did you lie to me?”  Loki asks quietly.  He knows the words are mistakes as soon as they come out of his mouth.  It was a mistake to have even come in the first place.

Actually, he should see it as a blessing.  He can leave that so called family behind now with no regrets.  

However, the mistake was already made, so why not go all the way?  Loki turns around; just in time to see Frigga and Odin emerge in the doorway.  He stares at them; Frigga has tears in her eyes, Odin looks as cold as ever but is Loki imagining the slight softening of his wrinkles?

“Why did you lie to me?”  He repeats.  It sounds so weak and desperate and Loki hates himself for asking it when he already knows the answer.

He isn’t worth the effort of telling the truth.

“Oh, honey, you were such a delicate boy, it’s too much-”

“For me to handle?”  Loki asks quietly.  He tears his wrist out of Thor’s grip but doesn’t leave nor make an effort to pick up his phone.  “So it was better for me to question my existence and believe that you didn’t - don’t - love me?”

“We never-”

“Loved me, I know,” Loki finishes.  “Why did you even adopt me, then, if you weren’t prepared to care for me properly?”  There’s a well of hurt rising up in Loki’s throat and it’s choking him, the hard lump that used to be his heart pushing up the few bites of salmon he’d eaten.

“I couldn’t just leave you, could I?”  Odin said quietly.  

“So I’m a charity case.”  Loki stated.  It’s creeping over his vision, now, and Loki wants to throw up over Thor’s grass stained socks.  “It would’ve been better to stay in an orphanage.”

And then he was off, running down the street in his black boots, green coat flapping.  “Loki!”  Thor shouts, and Loki runs faster, propelled by adrenaline, black spots dancing in his vision.  

Even though Thor is more athletic, Loki had always been faster, long legs eating up the distance.  He trips and sprawls in the dirt road, the fall knocking the breath out of him for a moment.  When he tries to get up, his shoelace is caught, so he slips them off along with his giant, flapping trench coat.  He takes off just as a car careens down the road, flattening one of his boots beneath a tire.

Loki blindly runs until he runs out of breath and can’t hear Thor’s shouts anymore. He collapses onto the grass of the park where he ends up, breathing heavily, trying to regain his vision.  That is, until he hears Thor’s voice again, shouting his name.

Loki looks around wildly for a solution.  He spots a small grove of trees and stumbles over, grabbing the first branch of the middle one and pulling himself up, muscles straining and trembling.  He climbs methodically until he’s sure the next branch will snap if he tried to climb up on it.  There’s a thick layer of leaves below him, and his dirty green shirt and black jeans are camouflage enough so that he would be invisible to all but the most careful observer.

It’s late evening already and the grey lighting makes it even harder to find him.  Thor pauses at the park for a little bit and Loki tenses, waiting for him to leave.  Even after Thor is gone, he doesn’t move.

Loki falls asleep balanced precariously among the thin branches high in the tree.

  
  


Loki is jarred awake by a swift kick to the stomach.  He groans and blinks blearily.  Suddenly, his whole body aches and his head hurts.  His back is scraping against something rough; tree bark, he realizes.  He must’ve fallen from the tree and been knocked unconscious, since he doesn’t remember it happening.

His attention is drawn away from his situation by punch to the jaw.  A crowd of people is in front of him, leering down at him.  Loki blinks.  It’s four high schoolers, but they don’t look very welcoming.  

“What’s this?”  One of them sneers.  

“It’s an emo hobo!”  Another crows. 

Loki sighs.  A kung fu training session first thing in the morning?  He lowers his gaze, hair covering his face, and tenses, wide awake and senses alert.  Until a voice cuts through the thick tension.

“Hey!  Stop that right now!”  It’s deep and full of authority.  Loki smirks.  Lucky them.  They wouldn’t get their asses handed to them by an out of practice disciple of Jackie Chan himself.

Until the newcomer pushes in between the high schoolers and Loki and Loki groans out loud in disappointment.

He’s tiny, first of all.  About the height of your average girl.  Handsome, with short blonde hair and bright blue eyes, but skinnier than anorexics with about as much muscle.  Loki doesn’t think he’s ever been as skinny as that.

“What’s this little squirt think he’s doing?”  One of the bullies laugh.  

“Get aw-”  The kid never finishes his sentence as one of them punches him straight across the jaw.  It’s followed by a kick to the stomach that knocks all the breath straight out of the kid’s skinny body.  

Loki stands up and steps over the little body.  “Now now, gentlemen,” he says diplomatically, although there’s a sinister smile playing around his lips.  “Let’s not be hasty.”  He blocks the punch as it comes, taking advantage of the momentum to twist the guy’s arm around and, with a flick of his own, snapping the other’s wrist.  

When Loki pushes the guy away, he’s howling and stumbling, tears springing into his eyes.

“I’m sure we can talk something out,” Loki says even though he’s smiling, enjoying the show already.  

“Fuck-” Loki grabs the next and lifts him over his shoulder, slamming the poor guy down onto the ground.  He dispatches the rest of them easily, finding their clumsy movements and unbalancing punches pitiful.  

When they’re reduced to a groaning mess on the ground, highly unlikely to try anymore, Loki moves back to where the kid is.

“You alright?”  He asks.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” the other gasps, still holding his side.  “Didn’t mean to create more trouble for you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Loki replied.  His heart went out to the little guy.  

“Where are my manners?  I’m Steve Rogers.  It’s nice to meet you!”  

Loki shook the offered hand.  “Loki O- Just Loki, sorry.”

“Thanks for saving me Loki, I suppose, even though I was the one who was supposed to be rescuing you,” Steve said sheepishly.

“You’re welcome,” Loki replied.  “Can you stand?”  He helped Steve rise to his feet, then rummaged in his jeans pockets for his phone until he remembered the smashed device on the pavement back at the old house.  “Um... do you have a phone?”

“Yes, I do.”  Steve searches the pockets of his khakis until he comes of with an ancient looking flip phone.

Loki looks at it for a moment, then shrugs and flips it open.  The screen crackles to life and the buttons light up dimly.  He thanks his photographic memory as he types in Tony’s number, the screen lagging considerably.  

The phone is picked up within seconds of connection to service.

“LOKI!”  Tony screams through the phone.  “WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?  THE TRACKING DEVICE ON YOUR PHONE BROKE!”

“You put a tracking device on my phone!?”  Loki exclaims, betrayed.

“Oh, shit,” Tony mutters.  Then he’s back to screaming.  “A WHOLE NIGHT, LOKI ODINSON!  I WAS READY TO SEARCH THE GUTTERS FOR YOUR DEAD BODY!”

“I’m not an Odinson,” Loki whispers.

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?  I’M COMING RIGHT NOW!”

And, indeed, twenty minutes later, Tony’s racecar screeches down the small suburb lane and slides to a stop next to the park.  Then, Tony is out, wrapping Loki in such a tight hug that Loki could feel his lungs being crushed.

“Okay, you literally just made a three hour drive in twenty minutes,” Loki says once he can breathe again.  “How many pedestrians did you run over?”

Tony shruggs.  “Just giving the hospital some business.  They were having a shortage of patients anyway.”

Loki gives him a look until he realizes Steve has fallen onto the ground again from the impact of Tony’s hug.

“Who’s this little squirt?”  Tony asks, following Loki’s gaze.  “I would accuse him of giving you that lovely bruise, but he doesn’t look like he could hurt and fly, and there are four dead bodies in the near vicinity so I’m assuming those are the dickbags who did it?”

“Tony, this is Steve Rogers.  Steve, Tony Stark.”  Loki pulls Steve up again, and the two shake hands.  “Tony, we need to bring Steve back to the tower and help him.  He’s beat up pretty badly.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart,” Tony replies, and the two help Steve into the backseat.

“So, Steve,” Tony says after driving leisurely for a while.  Steve had assured them that his injuries weren’t bad enough to need immediate attention, so Tony was taking the way back at a more normal pace, which meant at the very edge of the speed limit.  “You still in school?”

“No, sir,” Steve replies.  “I’m eighteen, actually.  I’m heading to the army this year.”

“The army, you say?”  Loki watched Tony’s eyebrows climb up his forehead.

“I know I’m small, but I work hard and with God’s blessing, I can succeed,” Steve says confidently.  

“I don’t think God can help you now,” Tony mutters, and Loki frowns at him.

“You’re not much taller than Steve,” Loki points out, smiling because he towers over both of them.

“Hey!  Not everyone’s a giant like you!”  Tony cries out indignantly.  

The lighthearted banter comforts Loki.  He finds that he likes Steve, a lot, and Tony is a given.  This is nice, he thinks, as he sits back and watches the landscape roll by.  I don’t need them.  I have a new family.

  
  


Unfortunately, Steve doesn’t stay with them.

He leaves after getting patched up, claiming that he couldn’t encroach on their hospitality anymore and that he was due for his checkup anyway.  (Poor bastard will fail it, Tony mutters quietly enough so that even Loki barely hears him).  

So Loki and Tony watch Superman together, tangled up on the couch because they had been originally sitting separately but then Tony had stretched his legs into Loki’s face, claiming that he needed space.  Now Loki can’t tell which feet are his unless he wiggles his toes, because even though Tony is a shade darker their feet are the same sock-protected bleached white.

Tony whistles as Clark Kent launches into the air.  “I’ll be able to do that soon,” he boasts, leg twitching and causing Loki to slip off a bit off the couch.

“Perhaps, but with a giant silver robot hanging off your body,” Loki rolls his eyes, but he has a proud smile on his face.

“Better than nothing,” Tony shrugs.  “And who knows?  One day I’ll develop a propellor system that is so small you can’t even see it.  Besides, that isn’t the only thing hanging off my body.”  Tony sends a cheesy wink and Loki turns away, pretending to barf.

“Ouch, that hurt, darling,” Tony pouts.  Loki shakes his head, but he’s hiding a smile.

Later that night, as Tony snores in the room over (Loki had kicked him out after spending a couple hours getting strangled by him), Loki is fighting a battle with his feelings.

Do you like him?  The voice in his head asks.  No!  He denies vehemently.  But there’s a shadow of a doubt.  

He thinks about Tony’s warm brown eyes, his voice, the way he talks, calls him pet names as his eyes sparkle just for Loki.  

You’re just feeling like this because he’s the first person to ever treat you nicely, Loki tells himself.  But that’s not true, the voice counters.  Bruce was nice to you, Natasha was fairly nice.  You didn’t feel like this around them.  Your heart didn’t beat faster, you didn’t want to be close to them all the time.

It’s just because he saved you today, Loki tries again.  It doesn’t matter.  He saved you because he cares about you.  And you care about him.  What could be better?  What if it’s mutual?

He goes to sleep with a smile on his face, for once letting his heart win over his head.

  
  


Loki is up before Tony the next morning.  He’s in the kitchen, trying out his hand at frying eggs (turns out he’s pretty good at cooking, even though all he’s ever did was steam the rice at Granny’s place), when footsteps sound on the floor.

“Finally up, what a laze,” Loki calls out jokingly, not turning around.  He’d decided to tell Tony how he was feeling today.  “How do you want your eggs?”

When he turns around, the pan he is holding drops to the floor and the eggs spill across the polished floorboards.  It’s not Tony sitting at the marble island.  It’s a girl, with smeared makeup, wild mussed up hair, and just a t shirt on, which Loki recognizes as Tony’s nightshirt.  The Ironmen stare at him, mocking him.

“Are you Tony’s roommate?”  The girl asks curiously, not seeming shy at all even though her bottom half is completely bare.  Loki gawks, but all he feels is disgust.

“Who are you?”  Loki demands.

The girls shrugs.  “My name doesn’t matter.  Tony called me last night for a good time.  I’ll be leaving soon, no worries.”  Suddenly, Loki notices the empty wine and beer bottles on the island and the stink of alcohol in the air.

Just then, Tony stumbles into the room.  He takes one look at the situation, and mutters, “oh shit.”

Loki pauses for a moment, then he’s moving, silently sweeping the half cooked eggs off the floor, perfectly yellow on one side and yolk spilling on the other.  

“Loki, I can explain,” Tony starts.  “It’s an old habit-”

“So it’s happened before?”  Loki asks quietly, because his voice would crack if he raised it.  There’s a giant lump rising in his throat, and his happiness from that morning had dissipated into the cold morning air.

“Loki-”

“Sorry.  You two carry on,” Loki says after he picks up the pan.  Something has shattered in him, and his head is spinning.  A burning heat crawls all over his body, settling behind his ears, while his hands feel clammy and cold.  And, for the second time in 24 hours, he runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long absence, but I haven't been feeling up for writing lately and life has been very busy. I have my exams next week, so I am looking forward to lots of free time and hopefully writing!
> 
> Thank you all for your support, I really appreciate it. I know it's oversaid, but it's really what keeps me going, that complete strangers like my writing enough to stick around. I love you guys, and you really warm my heart <3


	8. No Place to Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He’d run away from home only to be cast out again. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the people who left comments and kudos!! You give me life and love:  
> fandomsforalwayz, Sakuraya, Natsumi_Chiharu, PiratenClown, Bluegirlassasin6444, magami276, Fataizi, Slugfart, diokoxkristof, Katie1218, Narutoyaoi0318, waiod_64, loveoffandom, InternetPizzaParty, 27rayne, DieWithHonor, snowflakebunny, queenofblack, CrimsonSilver, Ininya, SugarSweetest, LadyReaven, DonnaJane54, mariemadness567, LadyKabuki, Rubyvn, Lukka_Silvers, Alemae, TheDorkLord, putonlevis, and 74 more guests.

Loki returns, of course.

If he’d thought it through, he would’ve realized that running away was futile.  He had no place to go.  But in the heat of the moment, no thoughts were running through his head except to get away, away from the pain and hurt.

Tony is sitting at the bar when he comes back, surrounded by empty bottles that he’d been able to buy, despite his age, by using his name. 

“Loki...?”  Tony drawls when Loki steps quietly over.  “Loki...”  And then Loki has a heavy seventeen year old draped over him.  He grunts and staggers with the weight.

“How much did you drink?”  He scolds, eyeing the glass bottles. 

“Why did you run away...?”  Tony groans.  For Tony to get shitfaced, he must’ve emptied out a liquor store.

“That doesn’t matter,” Loki mutters.  And it really doesn’t, because Loki has no control over Tony’s actions and has no business telling the other man what to do.  In fact, the reason he is even alive is because of Tony’s pity.  If he hadn’t taken Loki in, Loki would be among the throes of people that called the streets their home.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Loki says after Tony groans again.  Bracing himself against the wall, Loki somehow manages to dump Tony in his bedroom.  After pulling the blanket up over an unconscious Tony, he walks back to the bar and sighs, then cleans up.

Thankfully, the prostitute seems to be long gone.  

Loki berates himself as he methodically picks up empty glass bottles and stacks them in some cardboard boxes he’d found in a closet.  He had no right to feel hurt in the first place.  Tony had never shown any affection of that kind towards him.  Tony had every right to call a prostitute, or get a girlfriend, or anything he wanted.  Hell, even a boyfriend.  Loki was here because Tony didn’t have the heart to cast him out on the streets, and Tony had plenty of room anyway.  An extra body or two didn’t really matter when Stark Tower was larger than hotels and apartments.

You’re just a decoration, he told himself.  Don’t get ahead of yourself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Despite coaching himself to not care, Loki finds himself unconsciously thinking about Tony day and night.  He hates himself for noticing the way Tony’s eyebrows scrunch up when he’s concentrating, the warm feeling that fills him when Tony laughs and their eyes meet, the tingle that runs up his arm when Tony punches him playfully on the shoulder.

And sometimes Loki thinks that Tony likes him, too, when he holds Loki’s hand several seconds more than necessary or they make eye contact and neither one of them can look away.

After Tony leaves, Loki manages to talk himself out of his stupidity.

Loki still can’t seem to forget what had happened, though.  He finds himself without an appetite, skipping meals and working strange hours, waking up at 1AM to write a report then sleeping from 4AM to 7AM.  

He doesn’t notice his health dwindling away, becoming a skinny, pale shadow of his former self.  There are huge purple circles under his eyes, which are always pink from staring at a computer screen.  

Tony doesn’t notice either, until one day he fries two eggs and Loki’s still asleep.  When he goes to wake up Loki, Loki doesn’t budge no matter how much Tony shakes him.  It’s then that Tony notices how bony the shoulder is, the contrast of pale skin against tan even though Tony never ventures out of the house.  

“Loki... Loki.  Loki!”  Tony cries out, and Loki’s eyes snap open.  There are shadows above and below them, and the irises themselves are a sickly pale green.

“Tony?”  Loki mumbles, sitting up laboriously.  “What’s going on?”

“What are you doing to yourself!?”  Tony shouted.  “Look at you!”  Loki flinched, then stared down at his skeleton hands as if looking upon a stranger.  “You’re pale and are about as robust as a skeleton.  Your eyes look terrible!”

Loki snaps and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, standing up so that he towers over the older man.  “There’s nothing wrong with me,” he hisses, eyes flashing.  

“Everything’s wrong with you!”  Tony cries, worry and fear creating a toxic mixture that just sounds like disgust to Loki.

Loki pauses.  “You think I don’t know that?”  He says, and it’s so quiet that Tony just barely hears, but hears all the same.  He deflates, then realizes exactly what he said.

“Wait,” Tony says.  “I didn’t mean that.  There’s nothing wrong with you-”

He’s answered by the slam of Loki’s door.

“I fried an egg for you,” he says to the grainy wood.

  
  


* * *

 

 

Loki stares at himself in the mirror, Tony’s words running through his head.

He tries with all his might to refute them, but the image staring back at him through the mirror makes every word true.  Loose black hair falling around his face, hollow eyes, milky white skin.  Loki looks like a wraith.

At least he’s skinny now, Loki thinks wryly.  Imagine that.  Diets never worked, but heartbreak worked like a charm.  

He feels kind of guilty for running away from Tony like that.  After all, Tony was just telling the truth.  However, he doesn’t want to face Tony just yet.  He makes sure Tony isn’t outside, then steps out and walks through the halls carefully until he comes to the elevator.  A walk, perhaps in the park, would do him well.

Thankfully, Tony is nowhere to be seen and Loki escapes without a problem.  However, another horror greets him at the front doors.

Thor is standing there.

Loki pauses, frightened, rooted to the ground.

“Loki!”  Thor bellows, and Loki takes a step back, looking like a deer in the headlights.  Thor’s voice carries easily through the thick glass doors.

“Loki, come out!”  Thor tries opening the door but it’s locked.  Loki looks around.  Upstairs is Tony, and downstairs is Thor.  Loki is cornered.

“What are you doing here?”  Loki whimpers.  “Can’t you leave me alone?”

Thor had started pounding on the door, and doesn’t hear Loki.  “Open the door, Loki!  Is this how you treat your own family?  You run off to the first person who will take you.  What do you do for him?  Warm his bed?”  Thor’s fist slams against the glass door and a crack appears, running jaggedly down the pane.

Something twisted inside Loki.  You know he’s right, a little voice whispered to him.  What DO you do for Tony?  You eat his food and live in his house.  You’re not even sexually appealing.  He had to call a prostitute to satisfy himself.

You’re useless. 

Loki wants to run away.  The feeling overwhelms him until he fancies he could charge out of there right then and knock down Thor.  But he stops himself.  If he does that he would only be giving himself up.

He has to be patient.

Without sparing Thor a look, Loki turns his back and enters the closest office, then locks the door.  Thor seems a couple punches away from smashing the glass one out front.  Thor will get tired eventually, then Loki can leave.  It is a game of patience.  He sits on the sofa, laying his head back and closing his eyes.  

Soon he falls asleep.

When Loki wakes up, the room is dark and an eerie silence hangs over everything.  He rises quietly, feeling as if disturbing it was a crime.  

He unlocks the door and stands there listening for a moment.  The hallway is deserted.  The crack in the glass door has been joined by a couple others, and they are all haphazardly taped up.  Thor must’ve been dragged away by the security guards, no easy feat.

It’s quite ironic, actually, Loki thinks as he slips out of the doors, which only lock from the outside.  He’d run away from home only to be cast out again.  Tony hadn’t even made an attempt to chase after Loki, to look for him.  

Loki is unwanted everywhere.  

  
  


* * *

 

 

Tony starts to worry when Loki doesn’t turn up the next morning.

He’d decided to give the other his space (more like he was too wimpy to chase him down) and talk later.  However, Tony had found himself making excuses.  I’ll just give him another hour, he’d thought to himself.  An hour which turned into an evening and a night.  

He searches throughout the whole tower, wishing he had a camera system so he could just check all the rooms at once.  Even better, a talking camera system so he wouldn’t have to look at a hundred screens at once.  Tony files the thoughts away for a project to work on later.

Tony finally gives up when Loki is nowhere to be found.  He sits down at the bar and swigs some whiskey, morosely noting the spare amount of bottles on the shelf.  He needs to restock.

Tony groans and punches his head with the heel of his hand.  He’d messed up again.  He always says the worst things when he’s highly emotional, which is almost all of the time.  He should’ve noticed how badly Loki was doing, but he’d gotten caught up in his work.

He doesn’t notice that he’d finished the bottle until he goes for a drink and only air hits his throat.  He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stands up to reach for another bottle. 

Then he stops himself.  The look on Loki’s face when he’d walked in on Tony shitfaced swims into Tony’s field of vision.  Tony laughs slightly and sits back on the chair with a thump, desire to drink gone.

Later that day, when Loki is still gone, Tony gives in and drains the rest of the liquor at the bar, then puts in an order for a full restock.  The person at the other end of the line knows him well enough to not question his drunk order.

  
  


* * *

 

 

A spark flies and Tony drops the device.  He sits back in his chair, wipes the sweat off his forehead with a nearby towel, and smiles.

It’s done.

It’s the third arc reactor he’s built already, but he wants plenty of backup in case one fails or becomes old.  Tony is only twenty three, and he doesn’t want to die just yet.

Not when he still has someone to find.

The memory makes his smile drop.  It’s been six years since his life had been changed forever.  Since he’d talked to someone as brilliant as him.  Since he’d been even close to being beaten in a game of chess.

Six years since Loki.

He’d never turned up.  Thor had come back, banging on the door and demanding Tony to release Loki.  But Tony was in terrible condition, too.  The bar was stacked knee high with empty glasses and the teenager himself worked without sleeping or eating to forget.

They’d filed a missing person report, but Tony knew how smart and resourceful Loki was.  No one would find him if Loki didn’t want it to happen.  And sure enough, several years passed with no results, and the police decided that they had priorities other than a missing orphan, even if he was friends with Tony Stark and Thor Odinson, the youngest billionaire CEO and a rising football star.

Tony hasn’t given up, of course, and Thor occasionally stops by to check on how it’s going.  At first, Tony had abhorred the other and reluctantly given him information, but as Thor persevered, he realized that the other loved his former brother just as much as Tony, and they’d both shown it in the wrong ways.

“Sir, Mr. Odinson is here.”  Tony had created JARVIS a couple years ago, and now he relies on the system for everything.

“Send him in,” Tony says without looking up, removing his goggles and smoothing back his hair.  

“Mr. Stark,” Thor says.  Thor has never dropped the honorifics, even though the two now know each other better than they ever wanted to.

“Thor, you were just here yesterday,” Tony grumbles.  “What brings you back so soon?”

“I simply worried for you,” Thor claps a hand on Tony’s shoulder, pushing him down in the chair without meaning to.  

“If you’re talking about the assassinations, then you have no reason to be worried,” Tony sighs, pushing off Thor’s hand with a fair bit of effort and standing up.  “My security system makes theirs look like an undisguised bear trap, not to mention that JARVIS won’t let anyone in without my permission.”

“But you still haven’t caught him yet,” Thor says, and Tony curses those moments when Thor is actually intelligent.

“It’s only a matter of time,” Tony replies.  He walks over to the newest version of the Iron Man suit, followed by Thor.  “Although, I have to say that he’s set the record.  Once I get hired for tracking someone down, they don’t last long.”

“And this so called ‘Silvertongue’ has eluded you for a year.”

Tony has to admit that he’s impressed.  The assassin appears and disappears almost as if by magic.  Actually, he only appears when cornered, a rare win for Tony.  It never amounts to anything, though; the other always manages to escape without revealing a face, name, or even voice.  All that they had on file was that he was male, taller than six feet, and had a cape fetish.

And yet when Tony manages to track down one of the people Silvertongue had dealt with, they all say that they’d trusted the assassin completely, and that a man like him couldn’t have done any harm.

“You should worry about yourself more,” Tony says.  

Thor shrugs.  “What would a trained assassin want with a football player?  Meanwhile, you are a highly influential CEO.  I am surprised that you’re still alive.”

Tony snorts.  “Don’t underestimate me, Point Break.  I’ll have him in the bag soon enough.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tony comes very close one day.

It’s late evening, and he’s patrolling the city as Ironman.  It had been a tiring day; he’d had to deal with Thor AGAIN, and the giant had cleaned out his supply of twinkies.  Tony yawns and glances casually down among the buildings.

Then the back of his neck prickles.  Something isn’t right.  But all he sees is a common criminal digging around the back alley trash cans.  Tony doesn’t have time to deal with those.  “Jarvis, call the police,” he orders.

Bored, Tony watches the criminal as police cars drive through the maze of streets.  A sheet of black swishes as the criminal whips his head towards the sound of sirens.  A cape...?

A cape, Tony realizes.  It’s not much, but it’s enough for him.  He stops floating idly in the air and swoops down.

Tony isn’t used to missing, so he’s completely disoriented when his hands grab nothing but air.  The criminal somehow dodged him, and now he’s studying Tony from on top of a stack of precariously balanced trash cans, looking for all the world like an overgrown bat.  What looks like a golden, medieval version of a bike helmet covers his head and his face is covered by a doctor’s face mask.  It’s so dark that his eyes are black marbles.

And Tony knows beyond a doubt that it’s Silvertongue.

“You don’t wanna play with me,” Tony warns, hoping at least to entice a word out of him so that Jarvis can record his voice and run a test.  But Silvertongue just stands there, and the next second he is gone.

Tony blinks, then he remembers the ladders at the back of the alley.  The other can’t have just disappeared, so Tony powers toward the back, and sure enough there’s a whip of the cape disappearing into the building.

Tony blasts the building the smithereens, but he glimpses a shadow already outside and knows that Silvertongue escaped.  He flies through the building, zooming into the street.  No matter how fast Silvertongue is, the fact remains that he cannot outrun Tony’s propellers.  

Tony fires on instinct when he sees the shadow, and a voice cries out.  Then Tony is on him, pinning him against an alley wall.  

Ironman’s sensors evaluate the criminal’s face and body.  The man breathes harshly underneath him.  One of his shoulders is charred by the blast, but he is otherwise unhurt.  If he’d been hit directly, he wouldn’t be alive.  Silvertongue only has on a black blazer and black pants under the cape.

Tony contemplates for a moment, then clicks a button and removes Ironman’s face mask.  The criminal closes his eyes, eyebrows scrunching up.  That’s right, fear me, Tony laughs to himself.  

“I know who you are,” he whispers menacingly.  “The police are on their way, but they’re useless.  You don’t wanna be caught by them.  Tell me your name and I’ll let you go.”  Just to track you down again in private.

The other coughs but doesn’t speak.

“Put your hands up!”  Blinding white light fills the alleyway.  Tony turns around, unconsciously loosening his grip on Silvertongue.

“I’ve got it handled, boys,” he calls, squinting into the headlights of the police car.  

“What if... I told you my name is Loki?”  Tony’s blood runs cold at the mention of the name, but by the time he whips around, Silvertongue is gone.

A laugh seems to echo on the air, and Tony curses and kicks the nearest trashcan to smithereens. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

“He played with me!”  Tony complains.  He swigs from a bottle of wine.  Across from him, Steve digs into his third plate of lasagna.  

“I’ve been assigned to his case,” Steve offers through a mouthful of cheesy goodness.  “We can work together.”

“Oh yeah, baby, he’s going down,” Tony slurs.

“Stop drowning your humiliation in liquor,” Steve snaps.  He spears a forkful of lasagna and manages to stuff it into Tony’s mouth.  “Eat some actual food.”

“Urgh,” Tony grumbles, but chews the lasagna, which is surprisingly good.

He doesn’t tell Steve about the last thing Silvertongue had said,  In fact, he was questioning his hearing.  

Nobody should know about Loki except Steve, Tony, Thor, and the small amount of police assigned to his case.  And nobody except Steve, Thor, and Tony should know just how much that name could rattle him.

Tony swallows the lasagna with vengeful promise.  He’s going to catch Silvertongue if it’s the last thing he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive. Barely.


	9. Homecoming...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Now, even they are scared of him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the people who left comments and kudos!! You give me life and love:  
> LLawlietisbae, Mitsuki67, sirianmalfoyblack, Kitkat6912, DragonMerchent, cloud_alones, luna_on_water, EmCantEven, YellowWomanontheBrink, NerdyGarfield, EverlastingHorror, bbbbbbangtan, jemong, cassandrarara, Harpijka, Mistyandblue, Zarina25, BrokenHeadphones, and 31 more guests.

Loki doesn’t stop running until his sensitive ears can no longer pick up the sound of wailing police sirens and the raw night wind strips the image of Tony Stark’s face from his eyes.  The cape streams behind him, a blip in the starry night.  

He knew he would have to come face to face with him someday.  There was no way he couldn’t know about Tony Stark and his little band of vigilantes- only they weren’t quite little.  The Ironman suit gave Tony the height he never reached, Thor was the same height as Loki but 100 pounds more muscle, and Steve had become a marble statue.  Loki would never admit it, but it was actually hard work avoiding them.

Loki finally pauses to catch his breath, which he had left far behind him.  He realizes he is far past Jotunheim, the base of the last people who had known his real father.

They had taken him in after he’d run away that day.  There was nowhere for him to go; he’d slept in the alleyways for a while before being picked up by a homeless shelter.  However, he didn’t want to live by the charity of others; it reminded him of how he was in his own so called home.  Besides, all the other children were much younger, and the adults who ran the place asked too many questions.

Where do you come from?  Why did you run away?  Won’t your parents miss you?

There’s no place for me to return.  I’m not wanted.  I won’t be missed.

He’d been out one day and witnessed a murder at the convenience store.  The murderer had been about to kill him, when something about Loki seemed to stop him.

He’d been brought to Jotunheim blindfolded and tied up.  

Apparently he greatly resembled his dead father, who had been the leader of the group of underground assassins.  They were all immigrants and cast outs of society, ridiculed and discriminated against.  They were rejected from jobs and schooling, all because of a language barrier and the fact that their hair was blacker than the night.

“You can work for us,” they’d said.  “You have a place here.  After all, you’re HIS son.”

Loki was HIS son.  Dirty blood ran through his veins.  This is what he had been born to be; hidden in the darkness, doing dirty jobs for money, not among the bright happiness of the Odinsons.  He’d never belonged in that world.

This is what he tells himself every time he feels the life leaving a person’s body.

He’d failed that night, though.  One of his few failures.  Loki was efficient, effective, and their best assassin despite joining at age 16.  At first, there had been hell to pay.  Beatings, whippings, if he chickened out and refused to kill.  Now, even they are scared of him.

He is a monster, after all.

He slips in like a wraith, flitting into the corner of the basement and stripping out of his black clothing.  He dons a clean suit and puts a short brown wig over his jet black hair.  By the time he’s done, he looks like a common secretary.  He takes the elevator up to the top floor of the building.

“You failed,” Helblindi states.  It’s not even a question.

“The red giant intercepted me,” Loki replies, moving to stand next to his chair.  Even though Helblindi was the one sitting behind the desk of power, they both knew who was really in control here.

“Don’t let it happen again,” he says.  Loki’s silence is his affirmation.

Then Helblindi turns around and there’s a maniacal grin on his face.  Loki feels chills run down his spine.  

“Don’t you think it’s time?”

“For what?”  Loki tries to play ignorant, but he already knows what Helblindi is going to say.

Helblindi stands up and hands Loki a file.  His new assignment.

“To take out the Ironman.”

 

* * *

 

 

Even though all Tony wants to do is fix his Ironman suit and rush out to track down the Silvertongue, Jarvis reminds him sharply that there is an EXCEEDINGLY important meeting today.  It’s a masked ball themed event and many important presidents and chairmen are going to be there, so Tony has to show up, too.

“It’s an opportunity to check out their booze and gloat over how much better mine is,” he shrugs as he dresses.  It’s directed towards Steve, who is lounging in the corner until he processes what Tony said.

“Hey!  You just sobered up from your drinking fit earlier!  In fact, I’m 90% sure you’re still drunk.”

“What are parties but an opportunity to get more drunk?”

“I thought it was a chance for you to get out there and be social,” Steve grouched.  “You can’t just hang out with me and Thor all the time.”

“I have Jarvis too,” Tony said fondly.

“You flatter me, sir,” Jarvis replied emotionlessly.

“Please make some new friends.  And I don’t mean bed friends,” Steve added hastily as Tony’s eyebrows went up.  

“I don’t know how to make any other kind of friends,” Tony joked, but both men could tell that he was also admitting the truth.  Steve sighed and stood up.

“Well, I’m on assignment tonight, so don’t get too drunk.  I won’t be able to come save your ass, and Thor’s out of town for a game.  He’s supposed to come back the day after tomorrow, though.”

“Yes, mother,” Tony replies.

He doesn’t actually listen to Steve, of course.  

The party is well stocked, and Tony is pleasantly buzzed even before the speeches and introductions come.  He blows through it quite easily, and people are used to seeing Tony slightly off his rocker.  In fact, they like this side of him; he’s more jovial and liable to make business deals.

By the time it’s around midnight, Tony is so drunk that he’s floating a couple feet above his head.  He’s slumped on his stool and the world is blurry.  A woman in a slim red dress takes the seat next to his at the bar and picks up his drink.

“Feisty,” Tony slurs as she sips from it.  She’s got beautiful, long white legs and white arms.  Tony’s gaze slips up her long neck to her face, as she removes her mask, and his breath stops.

It’s Loki.

But it can’t be, because Loki isn’t a girl, and this is a girl, but she has the same face as Loki, and it doesn’t make sense-

Stop thinking, you’re drunk, he tells himself.

But that is definitely Loki’s face.  The straight nose, brilliant green eyes, jet black hair, white skin and thin lips.  

“Loki?”  He whispers.  Loki leans forward, red dress slipping over his form, and shushes Tony.

“Don’t think too hard,” he breathes into Tony’s ear, and a tickling sensation floods through Tony from head to toe.  There’s something dangerous about this Loki, but Tony is drunk off his rocker and craves the feeling.

“Loki... I miss you... where did you go?  I couldn’t find you...”  Tony rambles as Loki picks him up and drags him away from the crowd under the pretense of escorting him to the bathroom.

“I’m right here,” Loki replies.  “I won’t leave you again.”

“Stay with me,” Tony sighs, arm tightening around Loki’s waist.  “Please stay with me.  You’re my everything.

Loki freezes for a moment, and Tony looks up, confused, but then he’s walking just as briskly as ever, high heels clacking against the ground.  The mask is back in place, and people part around the 6 foot 3 woman in 6 inch heels.

Loki throws Tony onto the bed in the hotel room and this is familiar territory.  Before he can leave, Tony grabs Loki’s neck and pulls him down.  “You promised you wouldn’t leave me,” he said.  

“Let go of me,” Loki whispers quietly, shuddering.

“No.  Never again.”  The alcohol gives him bravado, and Tony reaches up to press his mouth sloppily against Loki’s.  

“Let go of me!”  There’s a note of urgency in Loki’s voice, of desperation, but Tony ignores it.  Loki is surprisingly weak willed, giving in to Tony’s administrations.  Soon, he has the red dress and prosthetic breasts off, and he’s staring down at wide, white chest and white chocolate abs.

“It really is you, Loki,” Tony says.  The eyes staring up at him are lost, blown wide with arousement, but overlaid with a film of sadness.

“It really is you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Loki wakes up with dread filling his every limb with dread.  He knows what he has to do, but that doesn’t make it any easier.  He also knows that he has already messed up, stumbled, and anyone who wanted him dead could catch up with him at any second.

He would have to work fast.

There is no reason to hesitate.  Last night was just an anomaly.  Tony had been way too drunk to be serious.  In fact, only booze could loosen Tony’s memory enough for him to remember Loki.  He must’ve forgotten by now.

Loki recalls the shock in Tony’s face that night when he had been caught.  Had he really not imagined that?  Did Tony really miss him?

Nobody misses you.  You’re not needed anywhere.  You’re always running away, with no place and no home to go.

Loki gets up silently, moving lightly enough that the bed doesn’t even dip.  He slips his hand into his underwear, flung onto the floor, and removes a small square.  It unfolds into a long, thin knife.

It wobbles in the air, and Loki realizes with shock that his hands are trembling uncontrollably.  It’s almost like his first kill all over again.  He’s unable to move, rooted to the spot out of fear.  

Get yourself together.

The cold words echo through his brain and the knife stills.  He walks over to Tony’s snoring form.  The knife flashes.

 

* * *

 

 

Tony comes to consciousness as if lugging himself out of the lazy river.  It’s hard work, but he finally opens his eyes.  Just to see a knife flash towards his face.

He yelps, and it barely misses, slicing into the pillow next to his ear.  Something warm and wet fills his ear, and he realizes it scored a shallow cut into the cartilage.

Loki is crouched over him.  So last night wasn’t a dream.  

“Loki...” Tony breathed.  “This must be a dream...”

For a moment, Loki’s face was soft, just like all those years ago, and Tony could almost believe that nothing ever happened.  They were still teenagers living together, having fun and laughing.  Then it hardened like steel.

“I assure you it’s quite real, Mr. Anthony Stark.  Ironman.”  Loki spit out.  His warm green eyes were now sharp bursts of ice, voice a low drawl.  

Then Tony remembers the knife still stuck in the pillow.  “What’s going on?”  He hates how his voice trembles as he speaks.

“Simply put, I am to eradicate you,” Loki says.  There’s no feeling in his face or behind his eyes, and Tony is deathly scared of this new Loki, who’s colder than ice and just as sharp.  

“Wait.  Loki.  You’re Loki, right?  What the... how... we couldn’t find you, I thought you were dead...”

“You gave up so easily,” Loki says, and now there’s bitterness written all over his features.  “Didn’t even try to find me.  Didn’t try to keep me.  Either of you.”

“I searched for so long!”  Tony cries out, and the pain from the past overwhelms him.  “You couldn’t have imagined how I suffered.  I hired the whole police force... I built Jarvis a physical form... hell, even Ironman... I’d hoped you were still out there.”

Loki’s face had softened, but now it hardens even more.  “Well, here I am now,” he snarled.  His eyes bore holes through Tony’s face, accusing him of allowing Loki to fall into trouble and suffering.  “It seems that you have failed.  But I will not!”

He pulls out his knife and prepares to stab, and Tony is still in shock so he doesn’t think to use the Ironman bracelets.  They wouldn’t have come in time anyway.

Something tackles Loki to the ground and the knife flies into the air.  “HOLY SHIT,” Tony yells and tumbles out of bed.  It stabs deep into the covers where he once was.  He turns his attention to the fight on the floor.

The newcomer is wearing red, white, and blue, strikingly familiar.  “Good ‘Ole Cap,” Tony says.  Then he scrambles into the corner for cover, because a deadly fight is going on, and he is at serious risk of dying if he gets involved without his suit, and he doesn’t know where he is so he isn’t going to call Ironman and risk damage to the suit for flying through solid wall.

Loki fights like a snake, slippery and deadly.  Steve is a lumbering elephant compared to him, but the two seem to be evenly matched.  Then Steve slips something out of his pocket, jabs it in Loki’s back, and Loki falls.

“Holy motherfu- what did you do to him, Steve?”  Tony runs over.

“Just a sedative.”  Steve is panting and out of breath, a spectacle Tony had never seen since Steve had decided to go monstroso.  “Man, is that Loki?  What do you think happened to him?”

Loki is sleeping now, and in this state he looks less like a seasoned assassin and more like the kid Tony remembers.  

“I don’t know, but I feel like it’s partly my fault,” Tony replies.  

The two stare at him for a moment, neither moving, both lost in their memories.  Finding Loki gone, never returning, the unsuccessful police searches and Ironman raids.  Then Steve, ever in control, speaks.

“We have to get him to the police.”

“No,” Tony says immediately.

“Tony... He’s a wanted murderer.  An assassin.”

“He’s Loki.”

“The Loki we knew is gone,” Steve says, looking at Tony sympathetically.

“No.  You don’t understand.  He’s still LOKI.  Last night proves that.”  Steve looks around the room and blushes brilliant red when he sees the clothing strewn all over the place, and Tony’s own stark nakedness.

“He slept with you to get you unguarded,” Steve says stubbornly.

Tony’s blood runs cold.  That’s not how it is, right?  He was sure they’d had a connection last night.  “You’re wrong.  Loki is still in there somewhere.  We can’t hand him over.  They’ll torture him.  They’ll question him...”

“Stay here, Tony,” Steve says quietly, and easily picks up Loki’s inert frame.

“Don’t you dare, Steve,” Tony says.  “I will fucking ruin you.  I will never leave you alone.  So help me-”  But Tony is helpless without his suit, as usual, and adding on the dizziness from the excessive alcohol he’s been consuming for the past couple of days, it’s easy for Steve to hold him down and slip the sedative into his veins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second to last chapter. This is the first story I will ever finish writing, so it's really incredible that I made it this far. Thank you all so much for the feedback and hope you stick with me one last time! Lots of love <3


	10. Your Cold Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Just kill."

Loki wakes up aching all over.

He’s slumped against the wall with his neck at the most awkward angle.  However, he doesn’t move.  He’s way too cautious for that.  Instead, he keeps his eyes open to mere slits and gives himself a few moments to collect himself and observe his surroundings.

It’s completely silent.  An eerie silence that seems to echo loudly through his ears.  Peering around as far as he can from the slits of his eyelids, all he can see is white.  

“It’s useless to pretend, Mr. Silvertongue,” a voice blares through an intercom overhead.  “Your heart rate sped up the moment you woke.”

Loki curses under his breath and opens his eyes fully.

He’s sitting in the middle of a glass dome with a glowing white floor.  The wall he’s leaning against is not a wall but a square pillar in the middle.  He moves his neck back to its natural position with difficulty and rolls it an attempt to make it feel like a neck again.  His hands and feet are, surprisingly, unbound.  He’s wearing the clothes he had been wearing last, save lighter; his secret stash of pocket knives were gone.

The glass dome is surrounded by an observation deck, almost as if Loki was an interesting specimen in a fishbowl.  A familiar face is standing on the deck, and Loki feels his stomach fall in dread when he realizes where he is.

“Fury,” he hisses.

Fury speaks into the microphone clipped on his collar.  “There’s no way out, Silvertongue, so might as well get comfortable.  We have the most sophisticated torture tactics of the current day, and as you do not identify with any particular country, there are no laws against our usage of them if you refuse to give us answers.”

Loki laughs because their torture can be nothing compared to what he as already gone through.  His physical body matters so little to him now.  And they can’t possibly hurt his heart any more.

Fury ignores the laugh, just like he ignores everything else that goes on under his nose.  “Who do you work for?”  He asks.

“Aren’t you the so-called leader of this wonderful country’s top of the line intelligence system?  I’m sure you know everything already,” Loki mocks.  “But I don’t suppose you’ll believe me when I say I work alone?”

A tic pops out in Fury’s forehead, and Loki revels in the satisfaction of annoying Fury until pain shoots through him and he spasms, falling to the floor, gasping.  There’s a collar around his neck.

“Electric shock,” he grits out.  “How creative.”  He’s more frustrated by the weakness in his body rather than the pain itself.  Loki doesn’t want to be on all fours in front of a low life like Fury.  Skipping all those meals couldn’t have helped.  But he hadn’t had much of an appetite for weeks.  More like years, but he’d been able to force himself to eat until recently.

“It would be in your best interest to comply,” Fury states.

“What a cliche, overused line,” Loki drawls, composing himself and standing upright with some help from the pillar.  He’s much weaker than he’d initially thought.  

Was this the end?

Loki doesn’t find the thought that depressing, really.  He’d failed to kill the Ironman.  He won’t admit for all the world that somewhere inside he still feels something for Anthony Stark, but he knows that he can’t kill him.  

Even if Steve hadn’t stopped him, Loki wouldn’t have been able to do it.

He smiles bitterly to himself.  Here’s my final sacrifice for you, Tony.  The ultimate sacrifice.  My life.  

I hope you accept it even if my life isn’t worth much.

“I’ll ask you again.  Who are you working for?”  Loki stares at Fury in annoyance.  The one eyed man is interrupting his final heroic speech, albeit in his head.  Isn’t Loki allowed a moment of Shakespearean glory too? 

“I’ll be damned if I tell you,” he spits, rewarded with a sharp shock.  This time, he can’t pull himself up and spots swim before his eyes.  Hell, when was the last time he’d eaten?  It had to have been at least a week ago... and then he’d gotten drunk with Tony Stark.

Smart move, Loki.

Fury seems surprised by Loki’s weakness.  He almost seems disappointed, like the great Silvertongue was supposed to last longer than two measly electric shocks.  

“I apologize for not giving you a chance to explore your, I’m sure, magnificent arsenal of torture tactics,” Loki manages to gasp out, feeling a dark haze crawling across him already.  “It is a great shame to me to not be able to entertain you properly, Mr. Fury.”

Fury replies with another shock, and this one effectively sends Loki over the edge.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Loki is suffocating, drowning, unable to breath.  He opens his mouth and water floods in.  He shouts, giant bubbles filled with Carbon Dioxide flowing up in front of his eyes, wide open and met with dirt streaked sides of the toilet.

His head is released and pulled up by a few choice strands of hair and he gasps in the precious air, eyes streaming and lungs heaving.  He doubles over and coughs, thin body racking with them.

A voice hisses into his ear.  “You’re a murderer.  You’re lower than trash.  You never were anything other than trash.  There’s no going back.  This is all you can do.  Do you understand?”

Loki hurriedly nods his assent, because if he doesn’t, they’ll put him back under again.  He’s reduced to a frightened child, paralyzed from the awe of meeting the legendary bogeyman for the first time.  

Nothing is left of the confident kid that had roamed the streets, or the carefree kid that had lived with Tony.  Loki was never meant to have that confidence or that happiness.  This is his true calling.  This is his dad, his family, his destiny.  

All he has to do is create a mask and hide under it.  Hide away that frightened, under confident kid who nobody ever cared about or respected.  

He has a way to force people to notice him now.  

Loki looks down at his hands.  They’re also streaked with dirt and feces, just like everything else in that disgusting room.  Something red glimmers at his thumbnail, and the next second there’s blood streaming from underneath his nails, running across his hands in violet red rivulets, only to mix in with the dirty toilet water and drip to the ceramic floor in pale pink droplets.  He screams.

“Shut up!”  The voice roars, something cold presses against his neck, and then a sharp pain radiates out from the spot, encouraged by the water.  It’s Loki’s first time being tasered.  He spasms, cracking his head on the edge of the toilet seat.

The blood vanishes from his hands, but now there’s a thick liquid dripped over his eyebrow into his eye.  Loki groans.  The left half of the world turns pink.

“The boss hates screaming.  You hear that?  Unless you’re a busty little girl, you ain’t screaming.  Understand?  UNDERSTAND?”  The last word is accompanied by a sharp jerk on Loki’s long black hair.  He nods dazedly, still hazy from the electric shock amplified by the rancid water he is drenched in.

“Killing is your job.  It’s the only thing you can do well.  You can’t do anything else.  No one else wants you.  But you have a place here.  As long as you kill.  Just kill.”

Just kill.  

Just kill.

The two words echo in Loki’s mind.  

Just kill.

It’s really quite easy.  There’s no expectations, no judgement, no delicate manners and delicate feelings to consider.  No betrayals.  He just has to kill, and he has a place to stay and come back to.  And people who are just like him.

Loki recollects his senses and pushes himself to a kneeling position.  “I understand,” he says hoarsely, coughing and spitting out a quantity of dirty water.  “What I did was right.”

He can feel the smile radiating from above.  “Can’t be said any better,” the voice croons.  A hand pats his head softly.  “Good boy.” 

“Do I have to kill teenagers, though?”  Loki says before he can stop himself.  Then he’s drowning again.  He’s not prepared this time, and a quart of fetid water goes down his throat before he can stop himself and close his mouth.

“Don’t question your orders,” the voice hisses.  Loki comes up, gasps, leaning against the toilet, retching and heaving.  He’s terrified of that cold voice.  It’s so different from a moment ago, when it had sounded almost... fatherly.  

Loki won’t ever do anything again to make the voice change.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.  Something on his back cracks, and he winces as one of his new scabs peel off from the force of his coughing and warm blood begins running down his bare back.  The bacteria infested water stings the cut, and he can only be thankful that none of the other whipping scars, from the day he had been caught stealing from the organization, had opened.  

The voice grunts and retreats.  “Clean yourself up,” it commands.  

There is no towel in sight, so Loki drags himself on all fours out to his bed and stems the flow of blood from his back and forehead with the rags he uses as a blanket.  It’s already bloodstained.  

He pushes two fingers down his throat and removes the fetid water from his stomach along with the crust of bread he’d had for breakfast.  Then he limps to the bed frame and collapses on top of the wooden boards in place of a mattress.  

He’s asleep within moments, a deep black sleep, the only place where his mind can still find some peace.

  
  


* * *

 

 

 

“He’s crying, Steve,” Tony states matter-of-factly. 

Steve is silent.  Tony stares at the figure curled up in the center of the Observatory, the cell reserved for the worst villains.  

Loki looks so small.  His hair, grown shaggy and long, has fallen over his eyes but his mouth is twisted in a terrified grimace.  His body jerks with spasms.

Suddenly, he begins coughing, retching, clawing at his own throat.  Tony shoots up the sidewalk and slams his fists against the bulletproof glass.  “Fuck!  Loki!”

“Tony!”  Steve runs up behind him and forcibly pulls him away.  “Tony, you can’t.  He’s a classified criminal-”

“He’s suffering, Steve!  Look at him!”  The two men stop and stare at Loki, who seems to have recovered from the choking fit but is now arching, moaning, scratching at his back.  Then the shirt comes off.

“Holy shit,” someone whispers, and Tony realizes that that is the first time he has ever heard Steve curse.

Loki’s back is covered in neat rows of long, thin scars erratically overlaid with diagonal ones.  Most of them look fairly old; the newest seems to be about a year old.  But Loki is keening, scratching at them, and they look grisly.

“How did you not notice that last night?”  Steve’s cheeks are bright red from embarrassment and indignation.

“Fuck, I was drunk out of my mind, Steve!”  Tony replies.  Racking his memory, he realizes that Loki had never taken off the wife beater he’d had on under the dress.  “Fuck,” he repeats. 

Then Tony notices the collar on Loki’s neck.  “They fucking collared him like a fucking dog,” he growls.  “Hold me back, Steve, I’m about to rip one outta Fury.”

Like a responsible friend, Steve puts a muscular arm around Tony’s shoulder despite his own desire to rip down Fury’s door.  “Don’t do anything rash.  Yet.”

Loki’s mouth moves, but the fishbowl is soundproof when the intercom system is off and they can’t hear anything he’s saying.  “Can you read lips?  Tell me you can read lips, Steve.”

“I can try...”  Steve says.  He squints.  “‘I’m sorry... daddy.  Just... just kill.  Just kill.’”

And then Tony’s sprinting across the observation deck and through the hallways, and not even Steve can stop him (nor does he want to, if he’s being completely honest).  Tony doesn’t stop until he reaches Fury’s door.

“They fucking tortured him!”  He yells, bursting in.  Fury looks up calmly from his computer.  

“You could’ve knocked,” he says passively.

“Fuck you!  They fucking tortured him and now you do too!  He’s brainwashed to be a murderer!”  Tony slams both hands down on Fury’s table and Steve whistles, looking out the window and shrugging.

Fury sighs.  “Look, even if I wanted to do something, I can’t.  He refused to tell us who he worked for.” 

“His fucking father!  They took him!”

“Why do you care so much, Mr. Stark?”  Fury asks sharply.  “Do you know this man personally?”

Tony hesitates.  Steve steps in, taking his arm.  “C’mon Tony, let’s go talk about this alone.  Let’s think this through rationally.  Please.”

Tony lets Steve lead him out of Fury’s room.

Tony doesn’t speak until they’re in his car and on the way back to Stark Tower.  He hadn’t been able to stomach going back and seeing Loki’s scars.  He’d pretended not to notice the year old scar on his forearm, too.

“I’m busting him out, Steve,” he says.

Steve looks at Tony sharply.  “I don’t care whether you’re in or not, I’m gonna do it.”  

Steve is quiet for a moment, then he speaks.  “You know, Loki saved me.  I was cornered by the biggest bullies in my school, and then down he drops.  Right out of a tree.  Like a miracle.  He pulled some kung fu karate, and next thing you know, they’d all dropped like flies.  

“He was my first real inspiration.  And if you think we can save him, then I’ll do anything I can to help.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

 

They plan until late that evening.  Tony’s got a bug already programmed to override Shield’s security system and unlock Loki’s cell.  He’s also got a device that will disable Loki’s electric collar.  Steve has been punching the same bag for hours and the fitness room is covered in sand.

They don’t plan for the amiable giant that shows up at nine thirty, half an hour before run time, with pizza and a six pack of beer.  

“Thor,” Tony groans, running a hand through his hair.  “Of all times.”

Thor’s grin doesn’t drop.  “Surprise!  Would you like to ‘Netflix and Chill’ with the latest episode of Meerkat Manor over some ‘Papa John’s’?”  Thor looks so proud of his use of the current slang that Tony can’t bear to pop his bubble and tell him what that actually means. 

“No, Thor, not today.  Big things planned today.”  Steve walks in at that moment, completely dressed in Captain America gear.  

Thor, usually so slow, catches on surprisingly quickly.  “A mission?  Count me in!”  He steps in and sets down the pizza, opening a box and grabbing two slices.  “Gotta fuel up,” he says through a mouthful.  

Tony and Steve glance at each other.  “Uh, you might wanna sit this one out, buddy.”

“What a funny joke!”  Thor laughs.  Silence.  “You were not joking?”

Tony ponders for a bit, then sighs.  “It’s... it’s about Loki.”

Thor stops mid chew.  Then he springs on Tony.  “You have found Loki?  My brother?  Where is he?  Tell me where he is!  I will go get him!”

Tony steps back from Thor’s advances.  “He’s, uh, in the middle of a high security cell in Shield headquarters.”

Thor looks at Tony.  His smile fades.  “You are not joking.”

“I’m not,” Tony sighs.

“It must be a mistake.  My brother would never commit crimes.”

Tony’s jaw clenches.  “He’s been tortured,” he says.  “Brainwashed, whipped, shocked, most likely drowned as well.  They’ve cultivated him into a killer.”

Thor is still for a moment, and then he’s whipping out the door.

“Whoa there, big guy!  Where are you going?”

There’s a steel determination in Thor’s blue eyes.  “I will wreak vengeance upon those who would torture my brother,” he says.  “To think of what he as gone through... as a brother of mine, and now this.”  Tony stares in wonder as Thor angrily rubs away a tear.  “My brother does not deserve this suffering.”

“I agree,” Tony says quickly.  “But you can’t just walk in there and take him out, even if you are the Thor Odinson.  I’ve got a plan.  Wanna help?”

  
  


* * *

 

 

 

Loki wakes up, once again, to pure white.  There’s no telling night and day in the cell, always lit from above, but the low growling in Loki’s stomach tells him it’s been more than a week now that he last ate.  

There’s a bowl of soup and piece of bread near him, and he tells himself he should eat it so next time Fury can rape that button and Loki will still be standing, but something in his stomach recoils at the thought of food.  So he just leans against the pillar, looks at his hands, and sighs.

Boredom has always been Loki’s worst enemy.  He can’t stand it.  It leaves him itching for something to occupy himself with, for something to do.  He starts counting the little scars on his fingers.  He flashes back to his dream. 

The red coats his hands again, and they’re dripping in it, but he has gotten used to the sight now.  He rubs the metallic blood across his palms, the blood of so many people he has killed.

In the beginning, he’d hesitated with the innocent or young.  He’d quickly learned that he didn’t have the luxury to choose who to kill.  And eventually, they’d all become a list to Loki, just like the organization probably wanted.  

Now he watches the blood drip from his hands, staining the pure white floor of Fury’s asylum.  

Then the lights blink and go out.  He looks up, confused.  His eyes adjust quickly to the dark, and the echoing silence in the chamber gives way to the slide of the door opening.  Something clicks, and the lights go on again.

Ironman is standing before him.  Loki stares up, uncomprehending, until the mask clicks back and it’s Tony staring at him.

“Let’s go, Loki.”  The moment is broken.  Tony seems to be in a giant hurry.

“Where?”  Loki says suspiciously.  

“Out!  Come on, we don’t have time!”

“Why should I trust you?”  When all you’ve ever done is betray me.  When all you’ve ever done is hurt me after I trusted you.  I should never trust you again.

“Because I can get you out of here,” Tony says quietly.

“Tony, they’re here!”  And Steve is running around the corner.  Loki stares at him in shock.  He hadn’t quite comprehended that it was Steve he had fought several nights ago.  He’d known that Steve had changed drastically from the thin schoolboy he’d been but not this much.

For a moment, a semblance of the old Loki flits across his features.  “You look a lot better, Steve,” he says.  Both Steve and Tony feel their breaths hitch and hearts skip a beat.

Then Shield agents pour out of a corridor and they’re thrown back into the present.

“Hurry up!”  Tony shouts, and the Ironman mask slides back into place.  Loki hesitates for a moment more, then stands up shakily.  Tony hisses impatiently and scoops up Loki, who’s a lot lighter than he’d realized.  Tony blasts a couple of agents out of the way, and then he’s flying through the halls with Loki in his arms princess-style.

Loki would be indignant at the way he’s being treated, but his head is spinning and all he’s aware of is the wind and a scratch in the red paint of Tony’s armor.  Tony speeds through the hallways, shooting down the agents who were dispatched here instead of to fight Steve back in the control room.  He’d already disabled the security systems through technology, as well as the communication system, so most of the agents were still in disarray.  They blast into open air fairly easily.

Loki regains his senses as they head up into the cold night sky.  “Put me down!”  He shrieks.

“I don’t think you want me to!”  Tony yells back.  Loki looks down at the far off lights and feels slightly queasy.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a car waiting!”  Tony yells.

Yes, he’d put the great Thor Odinson on chauffeur duty.

They light down on the bridge Tony had chosen for the meeting spot, and Tony opens the door and dumps Loki in the backseat.  Thor had been standing at the railing, searching the skies for Tony, and now they’re off, talking and arguing about something.

Loki regains his senses quickly in the backseat.  For a moment, he feels almost special.  They’d done all this to rescue him? 

Then he sees the newspaper in the front seat.  He picks it up.  There’s a picture of his face on the front, with the caption “Murderer ‘Silvertongue’ Caught at Last?”  Someone had drawn a mustache and nose hairs on his face in pen, and he can recognize Thor’s handiwork anywhere.

Some great pain chokes up his throat and his hand trembles.  So they were just making fun of him again.  They had rescued him just to poke fun at him.

‘You don’t belong with them.’

‘You’re one of us.’

‘Just kill.’

‘Murderer.’

Loki watches in horror as blood begins seeping across the newspaper.  It’s coming from his hands, which are suddenly dripping in it.  He drops the newspaper, but now it’s rubbed across the clean leather seats in streaks.  He would be so mad.  It is so dirty.  Loki is dirtying up the car.  There’s a gun in the front seat and Loki grabs it.

Just kill.

He steps out of the car, stumbling slightly, gun held loosely at his side.  Tony and Thor don’t notice him until he’s a couple meters away, and then they stop their argument.

“Loki, put down the gun,” Tony says calmly.  

“Loki-”

Loki slowly raises the gun, pointing it straight at Tony’s face, which is suddenly filled with fear.  Hmm.  No fun.  He shifts it to Thor.

“Please, brother-”

“I’m not your brother!”  Loki shouts hoarsely.  The gun trembles but Loki is well practiced and he knows he can still make it point blank.  The other two know as well.  They don’t move. 

“I’m not your brother!  And I never will be!  No matter what I do... how hard I try... I will NEVER be as good as you in their eyes!  In your eyes!  Don’t say you love me!  It’s a lie.  And you!”  Loki shifts the gun to Tony, who suddenly looks guilty.  “I trusted you.  I believed in you.  I LOVED you!”  Tony’s face twists up in pain.  “And you betrayed me.  You both betrayed me.”  His finger tightens on the trigger.

Something jerks Loki’s arm back last minute and the shot goes wide.  He looks around in panic, but there’s no one there.  Then he realizes. 

He can’t kill them, after all.  Because despite everything, he still loves them.  His brother, and his savior.  He loves them.  

But he doesn’t love himself.

Himself, a failure.  An outcast, a nerd, and now a murderer who can’t even kill.  

But he can kill himself.

He turns the gun around.  Tony realizes what he’s going to do first.  “No!”  He shouts, lunging forward.  The shot rings through the air and a pain blooms in Loki’s thigh.  Tony had succeeded in diverting the shot.  

Loki goes limp.  “Loki.  Please.  I’m so sorry.  I didn’t know what you were going through.  I-”

Suddenly, Loki comes to life.  He twists free, agile despite his injured leg, and with one swift movement, flings himself over the railing of the bridge.  The last thing he hears are two broken screams.

“LOKI!”

  
  


* * *

 

 

 

It’s silent, once again.  But this isn’t the judgemental silence when he’s noticed at school, the silence interrupted by Thor’s loud talking like at home, the silence after he’s tortured when he can hear his own ragged breathing, or the loud silence like in the cell. 

It is a calm, fluid silence, pressing in on all his senses.  

And Loki lets it take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me.
> 
> I've had this ending planned since the book began. If enough people want it, I can write an alternate ending for those who want a happy ending, but this is the way the story truly concluded in my mind.
> 
> Thank you for coming this far with me, and I hope you continue to read my work in the future.
> 
> I love you all <3

**Author's Note:**

> I will love you forever if you leave a comment or kudo! Let me know what you think :)


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